Speed Witches!
by symbiotic
Summary: It's the fastest sport in the world; witches in purpose built striker units flying around pylon ovals only fifty feet over the ground at speeds of over 500 MPH. Follow the story of one witch who goes from the bottom to the top with the help of two famous Second Neuroi War veterans and a few new friends. Please review!
1. A Porsche and a Shotgun

**AN: Hey there! This is my first fanfic in quite a while, and one that I intend to see through. Enjoy and please leave reviews!**

 **-Symbiotic.**

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

San Antonio, Texas, United States of Liberion  
1993

* * *

The Greyhound bus hissed as it came to a stop at the station. The hissing sound continued for a few moments as the bus inched closer to its stop, It's breaks squealed as the large bus pulled into its spot in and began to sit still, halting its movement abruptly as its passengers lurched forward. Once it came to a stop, the bus driver called out that they had arrived in San Antonio and that was the last stop on the route the bus was taking. The passengers slowly began to grab their bags from under the seats and began to file off the bus. Most would stop at the under side of the bus to grab some larger bags that would not have fit inside under the seats or in an overhead compartment before continuing on to another bus or going about their way in San Antonio.

Michelle Taranto fell into the latter of the two camps of people. She had been on the bus all the way from the Liberion state of Colorado, having bought a ticket in its capital city of Denver and riding the bus just over 1300 miles all the way to San Antonio. She did not have any larger bags to carry with her. All her belongings were in a green rucksack she carried upon her at all times. Quietly, she stretched her arms upright and made a silent yawn from the slumber she had taken during her long journey. She took time to dust the shoulders off of her denim patch vest, a vest she had constructed herself since the 1980s with numerous patches of heavy metal bands such as Testament, Possessed, and Metallica before reaching up up to the overhead compartment to grab her rucksack. Unzipping the rucksack, she reached inside and pulled out a Sony Walkman mobile cassette player and rummaged around for her cassette tapes. Once she found some of the tapes she reached in and pulled out the one she was looking for; Sepultura's 1991 album _Arise_. She put the headphones over her brown hair and straightened them before pressing play on the tape. She held the Walkman in her hands as she left the bus and went out to the bus station.

It was Michelle's first time in San Antonio, a city which seemed a far cry from Denver. She decided to come to the city for its warmer climate and the fact that it was a burgeoning metropolis benefiting from the early 1990s economic boom. Michelle figured it would be a good place to settle down for a time before continuing to somewhere else. She intended to only stay for a few weeks at most unless found a places to sleep, at which point she would extend her stay for as long as she felt she was not overstaying her welcome or she felt comfortable. It was part of a pattern that she had created for herself over the past few years, one she had become adept at carrying out.

It was just past six o'clock in the evening in San Antonio and had recently just rained. The bus arrived at just the right time for Michelle to experience the sight of San Antonio's Aztecan inspired architecture under the full glow of the pseudo gas lamps of the streets that made its streets so famous. Her stomach grumbled at the sight of seeing couples and young families out and about at the numerous restaurants, dining out on what was an otherwise perfect spring evening. She wondered about stopping in one of the restaurants herself, but she knew that she hardly had the cash to spend on such places. She would pick herself up a small meal from a local convenience store at best before she engaged in another pickpocket, but for now that was the spending limit that she placed upon herself.

As she walked down the streets of San Antonio Michelle reached into her pocket and pulled out a black trifold wallet. She looked down at the contents of the wallet. It contained a few credit cards, a debit card, and a Colorado driver's license for a man named Donald Bradford. Opening up the cash pocket, she found a total of fifty dollars cash sitting inside and smirked. She had done well on her last pickpocket, the wallet being a decent score that she could rely on for a little while before she had to steal another wallet from some unknowing soul. Best of all the bills were divided up neatly between a twenty, two tens, a five, and a few singles. Whoever Donald Bradford was obviously made use of cash and appreciated the value of having bills of many types, which made it easier for Michelle to engage in basic transactions. The debit card and credit cards would be of little use to her; making a massive withdrawal with the debit card in San Antonio or using the credit cards would appear on statements and they were sure to be canceled once Donald Bradford discovered his wallet was missing. Michelle figured she would attempt to make one withdrawal with the debit card at most, but that would be all.

Michelle resolved that the first her first place to stop in San Antonio would be a laundromat. She had not washed her clothes since she left for San Antonio, and she made a conscious effort to wash her clothes at least once every Tuesday. She extended that for an additional two days beyond her Tuesday deadline knowing she was headed on the road. Her clothes subsequently began to smell and have an unenviable stickiness to them from the sweat accumulated in theif fibers which Michelle found uncomfortable. Now with cash on hand she could swap for quarters Michelle figured now was the best time to rid her clothing of the rank stench of being on the road for days at a time and perhaps even clean herself up, though that would have to wait.

She walked down the streets for a moment, searching about for any sign of a laundromat or a convenience store where she could grab something quick to eat. She walked about for a few blocks from the bus station, keeping her eyes peeled closely. After getting several blocks away from the Greyhound station, she came across a small laundromat with the name "Suds". Michelle smirked and began to cross the street. Her Walkman blocked out the sounds from an oncoming car, which Michelle just noticed out of the corner of her eye. Michelle jumped, diving for the ground away from the car before she could be impacted. She succeeded in evading the car, holding held her head in her hands, shivering and laying on the ground as the car lights shined on her body. The lights of the car hung on her body for a few brief moments, people on the streets looking out at the scene unfolding.

Michelle remained on the ground, shivering and holding her head until she felt someone tapping on her shoulder. Michelle looked up from the fetal position she had curled herself in and saw an auburn haired woman standing over her. She appeared to be in her late forties. The woman wore a white blouse, buttoned up but unable to hide the line of a voluptuous bust that Michelle had not seen anything like in some time. She bore a concerned look on her face, looking down upon Michelle wondering what exactly what wrong.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked. A concerned tone slipped off her voice.

Michelle looked up at the woman before she looked over at the street and then at the woman's car. Upon the asphalt she saw her Walkman, shattered into many pieces, the cassette player having fallen under the weight of her body when she dove onto the street. Several of Michelle's articles of clothing, as well as most of her tapes, were scattered about onto the street and were sitting in puddles. Michelle then looked up and saw the woman's car. It was a red Porsche sports car, a car typically only affordable to the wealthiest members of society. In her mind Michelle began to piece together what had happened. A rich woman who felt entitled to use the streets because she drove a fancy car was feigning sympathy upon her for nearly running her over and causing a scene.

Michelle decided she was going to have none of it and promptly slapped away the woman's hand when she reached out to help pick her up off the street. "You think you own this street or something?" she questioned angrily.

"Excuse me?" the woman said. She was taken aback by the reaction Michelle gave her.

"You heard me," Michelle said. She quickly reached over for her clothes and cassette tapes, frantically trying to pick everything up before they became too waterlogged to use. The woman went to grab one of t-shirts, but Michelle began picking everything up frantically and she didn't get a chance. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'm just trying to help," the woman stated. "I saw you fall in the street and..."

Michelle cursed at the woman. "Yeah I fell down. So what? You think you own this place because you drive a fucking Porsche?" She picked up the shattered remnants of her Walkman and shoved some her clothes back into the rucksack.

The woman went to pick up the remaining belongings before Michelle shouted one more profanity laden declaration at her."Fuck off! I don't need your help."

Balling up the remainder of her clothes and standing up, Michelle took time to put her hand under her chin and throw a few middle fingers the woman's direction. The woman remained crouched on the street in front of her Porsche, a shocked look on her face upon experiencing the reaction that Michelle had given her.

* * *

The Porsche 959 pulled into the driveway of the large mansion and went toward the garage. Once inside, its driver stepped out and made her way toward the large house which the garage was attached to, a seven bedroom six bathroom mansion that housed one couple. The driver of the 959 unlocked the front door and turned the lights on before making her way over to the kitchen to make herself some leftover pasta from the previous few nights. At even sixty five years old, Charlotte "Shirley" Yeager could appreciate some leftover pasta. She hadn't forgotten the tastes cultivated in Romagna from her years serving during the Second Neuroi War.

As she went to heat up the pasta in her microwave, the phone in the kitchen began to ring. Shirley went over and grabbed the phone. "Charlotte Yeager," she answered.

"Hase," a voice with a Karlsandic accent said over the phone. "How are you?"

Shirley smiled and leaned against the counter at the sound of her wife's voice. "I had a good day, Trude," Shirley said to her sixty seven year old wife. She pulled the pasta out of the microwave and began to eat it out of the plastic container it rested in.

"Oh?" Gertrud Barkhorn said on the other end. "What did you do?"

"Well I got a manicure and a pedicure and I feel so refreshed," Shirley said with a smile. "And Elmira, that girl at the salon who cuts your hair? Her boyfriend proposed to her and we're invited to the wedding! Isn't that wonderful? Young love always gives me butterflies."

"That is wonderful, Hase," Gertrud replied. Shirley blushed at the nickname, a Karslandic word meaning "bunny". It was a term of endearment that Shirley had grown to greatly appreciate over the years and still made her get butterflies of her own in her stomach. "What else happened today?"

Shirley continued to recount the events of the day. "I had a nice phone call with Francesca today. She's wants us to visit Romagna soon and says hi." She cut herself a slice of a meatball and took a bite with some of the pasta. "I also took your car out for a drive which was oh so nice."

"Which car of yours did you take out today?"

"The 959. And its your car by the way, not mine," Shirley remarked.

"You know all I need is my pickup truck," Trude stated over the phone.

"And you know what I say, Trude," Shirley remarked with a smirk. She took another bite of her pasta before cutting up a meatball in the container to eat.

"You can never have too many sports cars," both women said in unison over the phone.

"Did you have fun driving it at least?" Trude questioned exasperatedly.

"I hit 195 one the freeway when no one was around," Shirley said with glee. She heard Gertrud sigh over the phone and snickered at her wife's exasperation. Shirley kept numerous sports cars to her wife's questionable tolerance to the practice, and she drove them in a manner that Gertrud did not always approve of.. She took another bite of the pasta with a meatball placed on her fork. "I wish you were there to experience it. It was fun!"

"Please don't die in a fireball on the side of the highway, Hase," Gertrud ordered.

Shirley laughed at her wife's exaggerated statement. "I'm not going to die in a fireball on the side of the highway. Besides, it seems like at my age I'm more likely to run someone over like I nearly did today then die in a high speed crash."

"Wait wait wait, rewind that sentence please," Gertrud demanded. "You nearly did what today?!"

Shirley sighed and began to calmly explain the situation to her wife while she munched on the pasta. "I nearly had an incident while I was coming back from shopping downtown. Some girl listening to a Walkman strolled out into the street and she didn't hear me. She must've seen my lights though because she jumped out of the way before I could hit her."

"Please tell me there weren't witnesses," Gertrud begged. "I sure hope no one saw this."

"It was a crowded street so yes there were witnesses," Shirley explained. "But like I said, I didn't do anything to the girl except make her drop a bunch of clothes. In fact, the only thing that was even somewhat hurt were my feelings. The girl told me to fuck off when I was trying to help her and then just left in a huff. Can you believe that? I swear she didn't look much older than twenty one. Is that how these Generation X kids are turning out? They sure have foul mouths if that is the case."

"That's not the point!" Gertrud shot back. "You nearly killed someone today. Do you know what that could've meant for you? Gosh sometimes you worry me when you get behind the wheel."

"Trude, I wasn't trying to hurt anyone," Shirley sighed. "And I'm still very..."

"I mean it, Shirley," Gertrud interrupted. Shirley smiled at the seriousness coming off of her wife's voice. She had come to expect it over the years whenever she had done something risky. "You're far too old to be fooling around with cars the way you do."

"Aww Trude," Shirley said with a smile. "I love when you worry about me. Honestly though, I know what I'm doing. I stay well within the car's capabilities and I'm certainly not going to go outside of those limits. And I always obey the speed limits in the city. Besides, you're one to talk. You still play with guns at your age and you're older than me!"

"I'm just making sure my firearm skills and knowledge stay sharp," Gertrud said.

"Don't you already have enough of that knowledge," Shirley quipped. "You know as much about guns as I know about cars."

"I know so much so I can protect you," Gertrud stated. "If anyone tried to hurt you I wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet through their skull. I hope you know that."

Shirley couldn't help but laugh into the receiver at her wife's assurance and make a joke out of her declaration. "Gosh Trude, that has to be the most romantic thing you've said to me in forty eight years." She took one last bite of her pasta before going to wash out the container in her sink.

"You know I'm serious!"

"I know you are," Shirley said with a half sigh and a smile. Her wife could be incredibly overprotective of her. "It's why I..." Shirley paused for a brief moment and looked out her window. The pause was long enough that Gertrud took time to speak up.

"Hase?" she said. Still no response. Gertrud grew nervous on the other end of the line. "Shirley? You there?" This second questioning was said with a greater hint of worry in her voice.

"I'm here," Shirley said, straightening the phone receiver against her face. "I just thought I saw something out the window."

"What did you see?" Gertrud questioned.

"Trude..." Shirley sighed. She did not want her wife to be so worried about her constantly.

"What did you see, Shirley?"

Shirley sighed at the urgent tone coming off of her wife's voice and she slightly cursed herself for giving Gertrud the impression that something dangerous was happening. "You know that motion light we installed over the garage recently? It just went on for some reason. Now normally it only comes on when one of us pulls into the driveway late, but you're not home and I got out of my car at least fifteen minutes ago."

"Where are you now?" Gertrud asked.

"I'm in the kitchen. Why?"

"Lock all the doors and windows," Gertrud ordered. "Stay where you are. I'll be home soon."

"Trude, its probably just a bird or some other animal that got in front of the light."

"Just do it, okay! I'll be home soon." Both women stayed silent briefly on the phone before Gertrud spoke up in a gentle tone. "Ich liebe dich, Hase."

"Love you too," Shirley said with an exasperated laugh. She hung up the phone and continued washing the Tupperware container her pasta was in. Her wife could go overkill sometimes.

* * *

"Stupid fucking bitch," Michelle cursed to herself. "Fuck her and her stupid Porsche."

She trudged along the street with the shattered remnants of her Walkman in her hands. The Fusan portable cassette player was now completely useless. The tape deck lid hung like a severed limb from one of the hinges that it rested upon. The buttons had become dislodges and were scarred from falling upon the asphalt. The headphones were the only thing still intact from the fall, but even they were completely useless without the device to play music from. Michelle continued to curse the woman who had nearly hit her.

The Walkman was one of her most prized possessions. She had saved up tip money from a several month stint as a waitress working at a diner in Salt Lake City to purchase it. It was the only legitimate job that she had worked in recent memory, and what few funds she could scrounge from the job were pumped into having the Walkman and buying more cassette tapes. It was an escape device from the world around her, along with the valued cassette tapes that she carried around with her. Not only was the Walkman damaged, but several of her tapes were now waterlogged and probably could no longer play even if the Walkman was not damaged. Furious at the incident that had occurred and berating herself over the fact that she had fallen in the street in such a manner that the Walkman was crushed, she wound up her arm and chucked the remnants of the device into a wooded patch of the neighborhood that she found herself walking in. She muttered a few more profanities to herself about the woman who had nearly hit her and then continued on her way.

Michelle looked at the neighborhood around her. She did not have a map of San Antonio handy, so she figured just wandering about and exploring about before she got her bearings. As a result she ended up in a very wealthy neighborhood lined with massive castle like homes surrounded by wrought iron gates and brick fencing. Michelle looked up at the houses and held in a mix of awe and jealousy at the people who lived in those houses. Many of them probably did not deserve to live in those homes, she felt. They probably were corporate executives or athletes, people Michelle felt made too much money for their own good.

Normally Michelle would normally never walk around through such a neighborhood, as walking around with her typical look would surely attract undo attention from nervous wealthy types who were all too eager to call the police upon what they saw as a disturbance to their peaceful communities. But she was curious and had nowhere in particular to go in the city, so she figured exploring was totally within the realm of reason. The neighborhood seemed to have a few wooded sections, probably for the privacy of some of its residents, and those wooded areas always were a decent place to bivouac for at least one night before she continued on to a slightly more hospitable neighborhood in San Antonio. Suburbs around here did at least have a few good places to hide out, she said to herself. She wondered if perhaps it was possible to set up a small encampment for herself in the forested areas. If that was possible life would be much easier.

From the other side of the street coming at her was the headlights of a car. Michelle quickly ducked behind a transformer box on the sidewalk, doing her best to not get caught. She peered around the corner and looked at the lights coming in and raised her eyebrows. Pulling into the driveway of one of the homes was none other than the red Porsche that had nearly hit her. Michelle peaked up just over the transformer box and watched it pull into what seemed like the lone driveway on the street that did not have a gate in front of it. It was the last thing she expected to see in the neighborhood, and it gave her several ideas.

Slowly she rose up from behind the transformer box and snuck over to the woman's driveway, walking Native Liberion style in a crouched position to minimize both her profile and her noise levels. It was not the first time she had put the survival skills she acquired to good use, but it was one of the most vital times. She ducked behind a dog statue atop a brick and mortar pillar at the front of the driveway. Michelle poked her head slightly over the post, watching as the woman who nearly hit her pulled the Porsche into the garage and walked toward her front door. She hid behind the pillar until the motion light off and the woman was inside the house and had shut the door behind her. Only then Michelle made her move.

Still walking Native Liberion style and walking in a crouch, she set her rucksack down to minimize the amount of noise she was making and began to creep up the driveway. She walked up assuredly but somewhat nervous, trying to get quietly but quickly out of the coverless driveway and under a shadow so that way she would not expose herself. She took time to stop and lay upon the ground, keeping out of the sightline of windows she saw over the house. A light was on from one of the windows, and Michelle could see the auburn haired woman inside eating something out of a container while talking on the phone. Getting back up and walking Native style, careful to place her toes before her heels, she moved quietly through the driveway. It was not till she got close that she nearly blew her cover. The motion light that she had seen activate before when the Porsche pulled into the garage turned back on, illuminating the whole front of the garage in a bright glow. Gasping, she quickly hid behind a corner wall that was out of the range of the light on the side of the garage. From the corner, she was able to see the woman in the kitchen of the house glance out the window. Michelle remained absolutely still.

When she was certain that the woman was no longer looking out the window, she looked around the corner and saw a side entrance to the garage. Looking up to see there was not a motion sensitive light over the door, she reached for the door and twisted the knob. To her surprise it turned over easily and opened with nary a creak in the hinges. Shocked by this discovery, she crouched and slipped into the garage before quietly closing the door behind her. The garage was dimly lit by a plugged in night that was near a light switch. Cautiously she snuck over to the light switch and turned it on, careful to check the window of the garage for any sign that the woman was still there. There was no sight of her to be seen.

When the lights flickered on in the garage Michelle was greeted with a sight not even she expected. Inside the garage, backed up against one another, were four different cars, all of them seat sports cars that she had only seen passing by or in magazines. She held her breath and put her hand over her mouth to contain the gasp as she looked out at the vehicles present. Amongst them were not only the red Porsche that Michelle did not recognize from a model perspective but with its sleek bodywork and golden shield badging she knew was valuable. Next to it was another red car, but unlike the curvaceous Porsche it was angled sharply with a large wing and a hump on its back. A yellow badge with a prancing horse graced its front which Michelle immediately recognized as the badge of the prestigious Romagnan sports car manufacturer Ferrari. On the left of the Porsche and behind it sat two other cars that immediately recognized, a 1969 Chevrolet Corvette and a Ford Mustang with the badging indicating it was not just any Ford but a high performance Shelby GT350.

"This lady must be really loaded," Michelle said out loud to herself.

"That she is," a foreign accented voice said.

At that moment the most feared sound in the world ripped through the air and penetrated Michelle's ears; the sound of a pump action shotgun being cocked. Michelle nervously froze and turned around at the sound. Standing before her was a 5'3" woman with greying black hair and standing before her. Like the woman who nearly ran her over she did not look older than her mid forties, her face bearing few signs of aging in the form of wrinkles. She was dressed in a black tank top and green BDUs and wore a digital watch on her wrist. In her hands was a black Mossberg 500 shotgun. It rested carefully against her shoulders and had a flashlight on the end of its long barrel.

"I-I-I'm s-s-sorry," Michelle stuttered. "I think I'll just be..."

Michelle swallowed at the woman's woman turned a laser sight onto the shotgun and shined it on Michelle's head. She immediately gasped. "I have every right to blow your head off," the woman said firmly. "If you value your life in any way, shape, or form you'll do as I say. Understand?" Michelle nervously nodded and swallowed deeply. Her mind could hardly piece together even a hypothetical situation that could possibly occur.

The woman with the shotgun began to speak up again and Michelle hung onto every word she said. "First, you'll turn around," she ordered. Michelle immediately complied and turned to face the cars. "Now you'll get down on your knees at once." Michelle quickly followed the orders and fell to her knees, resting them upon the linoleum floor of the garage. "Put your hands behind your head, lock them together, and keep them that way. Understand?"

Michelle nodded nervously and put her hands behind her head, interlocking her fingers with one another. She swallowed tightly and felt sweat bead up upon her forehead. "I don't know if you're just lost or really stupid, but you picked the wrong garage to try to sneak into."

"I-I-I'm sorry," Michelle said nervously. "I don't know what I was thinking. Please don't..."

"Trude?" a voice called out from inside the house. Michelle looked up at the door that attached the garage to the house. After a few agonizingly long turns of the doorknob it opened to reveal the auburn haired, voluptuous woman standing in the door. "Is that you? I heard some shouting in the garage. Is everything okay?"

"Hase, go inside and call the police," the woman named Trude ordered.

"Huh?" the auburn haired woman said. She stepped into the garage from a small staircase that the door was placed atop of and Michelle swallowed even deeper. "What's going on here, Trude?"

As she walked into the garage and the sound of her shoes grew closer and closer, Michelle and the auburn haired woman finally locked eyes at Michelle's position at the side of the red Porsche. Michelle watched as the woman's jaw dropped and a hand went to her face. "Oh my gosh," the auburn haired woman said. "You're the girl I nearly hit today!"

"Excuse me?" Trude said, keeping her eyes on Michelle and keeping the shotgun pointed at the back of her head. "This is the girl you nearly hit with your car?"

"Yeah," the auburn haired woman replied. "That's her. How the hell did she get in here?"

"Through the side door you conveniently left unlocked again! After how many times I've reminded you to lock it?" Trude explained in an irritated voice. She growled one more time while maintaining her aim on the back of the girl's head. "Go call the police already. I'd rather not spend my evening standing in the garage with a shotgun pointed at an intruder's head."

Michelle swallowed as the auburn haired woman sprinted back into the house and began to dial the phone. She had no idea what her fate would be.


	2. Arrested Development

San Antonio, Texas, United States of Liberion

1993

* * *

In short time the Bexar County Sheriff's Department arrived at Shirley and Gertrud's home. Shirley kept herself inside, waiting patiently until three police cruisers and a K9 unit arrived on the scene. Gertrud meanwhile stayed in the garage, the Mossberg pointed at Michelle's head until two deputy sheriffs arrived in the garage and saw the scene that had unfolded. Only once they detained Michelle with handcuffs did Gertrud withdraw the shotgun, remove the shell in the chamber, open the bolt, and put the safety catch on with the supervision of the two deputy sheriffs. She watched carefully as the policemen ordered Michelle to put her hands behind her back and place handcuffs around her wrists. Only then did they make her stand up and escort her out from the side door. The other deputies went on to secure the perimeter and sent the K9 unit to sniff out anyone else or any dangerous devices that could have been placed in the area. Once they were certain the area was secure, Martin Griggs, the Sheriff who had responded to the call, asked both Shirley and Gertrud out to the front porch of their home to discuss the incident that had unfolded in the garage.

"Thank you for getting here so fast," Gertrud replied. "Your department really is top notch as far as their response times go."

"Well you did half the work for us, Miss Yeager," the old Sheriff remarked. The police cruiser lights continued to flash sharply across the driveway while the K9 unit searched outside. "You ever think about joining the force? At your age you seem to be quicker than half my deputies when it comes to detaining a suspect."

"Well. . .I do like to keep my skill set well tuned, Sheriff," Gertrud said with a proud smile. " It's really mostly to protect the most important thing in my life though," Gertrud replied, warmth creeping into her voice. She wrapped her arm around Shirley's waist. Shirley could not help but roll her eyes at Gertrud. While it was nice to see that her wife could still protect her in an event like the one that unfolded, she wished that Gertrud wouldn't do things that were so over the top. They were just a couple trying to enjoy their retirement with their military careers were long over. Frankly, Shirley prefered it that way.

Sheriff Griggs then pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, clicking it before tapping it against the pad before speaking up again. "So let's start from the beginning," Sheriff Griggs requested. "What exactly happened when you got home?"

Gertrud turned away from her wife and began to explain first. "I pulled up into the driveway in my truck, just like I do every night and I saw a light on in the garage."

"And you didn't think this light was turned on by your wife while she was working on one of her cars?" Griggs questioned.

"No, considering that I was talking to her on the phone before that and had told her to stay in the house until I got home," Gertrud said. Shirley smiled wryly at her wife's thoroughness. "She said she had seen something suspicious so I asked her to stay locked inside."

Griggs wrote the information onto the pad as Gertrud spoke. He then turned to Shirley. "And Miss Yeager..."

"Shirley, Sherriff Griggs," she interrupted before giving him a warm smile. "My wife's the one who you can call Miss Yeager."

"Shirley, right," he replied as he smiled back. He scribbled some additional details on his notepad before continuing. "So Shirley, what exactly happened that you thought was suspicious before the incident?"

"I came home earlier and went to straight to the kitchen. I called Trude while I microwaved some leftover pasta," Shirley explained. "It was during our conversation that I noticed the motion light that we have on the garage had been triggered even though no one was walking under it." Shirley shrugged sheepishly before finishing,"Granted I thought it was just a bird or a stray cat but credit to Trude for thinking otherwise."

"So you noticed the light turn on but didn't see anything?" the Sheriff questioned.

"That's correct." Shirley remembered noticing how quiet her street had been when she'd arrived home.

"What happened next?"

"I was waiting for Gertrud when I heard someone shout in the garage about five minutes later and went to see what the commotion was about," Shirley explained. "I knew Trude had been close to home when we'd spoken on the phone so I just assumed it was her looking for me to make sure I was ok."

"And that's when you saw your wife with a shotgun pointed at the suspect's head while the suspect was kneeling on the ground?"

"That's how I found them."

Griggs turned his attention back to Gertrud with a wry smile crossing his face. "Now how exactly did you get a shotgun pointed at the young lady who my deputies found in your garage and at your mercy?"

"She came in through the side door that a certain someone left unlocked," Gertrud stated in an annoyed tone. She glanced over at her wife and furrowed her brow in displeasure at her obvious lack of attention to detail.

"Well we never use that door for anything. How was I supposed to know it wasn't locked?" Shirley said defensively.

"Well it wouldn't have been unlocked in the first place if someone had locked it the last time they used it," Gertrud snapped back. "Do you want someone to break into our home and possibly hurt me or you?" Gertrud questioned harshly

She saw Shirley wince slightly at her harsh tone and realized she was berating her wife because of the trickle of anxiety still running through her system. Gertrud placed a hand on her wife's shoulder and caught her eye before speaking in a more concerned tone, "Do you know how glad I am that you at least had the self awareness to lock the door connecting the garage to muck room? You're lucky I installed the deadbolt along with the chain lock on that door. That probably saved your life, Hase."

"My life was never in danger, Trude," Shirley sighed while rubbing her temples.

"You don't know that," Gertrud stated crossing her arms and eyeing her wife sternly.

Shirley rolled her eyes at her wife's exaggeration. "Yes dear, you're right," she conceded.

This was a situation that was all too typical of living with a strict disciplinarian and a former war veteran who still maintained a level of readiness and physical fitness that almost indicated she expected to go back into combat. Sometimes she found it to be admirable and worthy of praise. Other times she found it to be completely unnecessary and nothing less than anxiety inducing. This time was one of the latter times, unfortunately. They both turned their attention back to the Sheriff who seemed to be attempting to stifle an amused grin.

"So the suspect comes in through the side door," Griggs began while clearing his throat and attempting to regain his stern composure. "And she turns the light on. Meanwhile you pull up in your pickup truck and see the light on, get suspicious..."

"And then I entered through the side door with my shotgun in hand," Gertrud said. She remembered the shocked look on the girl's face when she realized Gertrud was armed.

"And that is when you found the suspect?" Griggs questioned. He continued to jot down details on his notepad so he missed the slightly smug look that crept onto Gertrud's face as she answered his question.

"That's correct, Sheriff," Gertrud stated. "After that she stood down and followed my orders until you and your men arrived on the scene." She also vividly remembered the fear in the girl's eyes when she realized Gertrud was completely serious that she would end her life if she made one wrong move.

The Sheriff looked up from his notes. "Did you notice the suspect do anything suspicious while she was in the garage? Any particular giveaways to commit a certain crime?"

"She was only staring at my wife's car collection," Gertrud stated. "She wouldn't have been able to steal any of those cars easily; the keys are kept inside the house in our lock box." Where they should be Gertrude thought to herself, considering that her wife would probably lose them all if they were left to her care alone.

The Sheriff finished the last of his paperwork before shaking both their hands and commending Gertrude again on such quick action. Off in the distance the cruisers continued to flash their sirens in rotating patterns that splashed against the driveway and house. Shirley watched as the girl who she had nearly hit was escorted away from the garage and toward one of the open squad cars. She had recognized her almost instantly since their encounter had only happened a few hours before and the girl's hateful responses had been hard to forget. Her hands were locked behind her back by glinting cuffs while her head hung low in what seemed like either defeat or possibly defiance considering their earlier encounter. She watched as the girl was brought up to the squad car and her head was pushed down as she was shoved into the back seat. The car's door was shut sharply after she had been forced inside, but the girl's face still remained visible in the window. Shirley could not help but stare at the girl. Even though this girl had been close to posing a potential threat to her only an hour ago she couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse. The girl had certainly seen better days based on her slightly ragged appearance and frankly noticeable odor. The girl shifted in her seat and glanced out the window towards the expansive home Shirley shared with her wife. She saw a hollowness to the girl's gaze that she couldn't forget as the squad car slowly pulled off.

* * *

 **Three days later**

* * *

"Aw come on, McLaren!" Shirley shouted at the large TV screen. "450 miles an hour isn't going to get you onto the pole!"

The Striker Air Racing Championship, or SARC for short, was Charlotte Yeager's favorite sport to watch. Since 1966, witches past military age had taken up modified strikers from Shirley's era and raced them around pylon marked oval tracks set eight miles long at only fifty feet over the ground as they navigated the course at speeds that would make even a master of speed like herself blush. The combination of low flying and high embankment turns, plus the intensity of which the witches jockeyed for position was something she took great enjoyment in watching. Granted she took enjoyment from watching all forms of motorsport, be it everything from motocross to the 24 Hours of Le Mans, but the SARC races had the rare combination of being able to take her back to her glory days and marvel at the skill of the new witches who had come onto the scene in the years since she last piloted a striker unit.

The championship had changed significantly since Shirley first was invited to participate at the first striker race back in 1966 in Reno, Nevada. Whereas the first Reno Air Racers simply took old reciprocating strikers and removed their attack and defense modules to focus entirely on top speed, that began to change in the 1970s when teams from Europe began to get involved in the series. McLaren Air Racing, the team that Shirley enjoyed watching the most, brought the first purpose built racing striker to the field in 1974, and by the time 1975 rolled around and the formalized SARC series was created, they had set the gold standard for racing striker construction and other teams began to follow suit. Because the United States of Liberion's best witches often matriculated into the conventional military after their usefulness as a witch ended they were seldom seen racing as more than wild card entries at the Liberion rounds of the championship. Not only that, but the top teams were now coming not from homegrown Liberion squads with a passion for aviation but teams from the world of Formula One automobile racing, who had millions of dollars to budget on striker teams and vast amounts of scientific knowledge of aerodynamics and engine design to one up the former private Liberion teams. By the early 1980s the non Formula One backed teams were largely gone from the sport.

Shirley looked on exasperated as she watched the qualifying results unfold. Kyoko Ishikawa, a 22 year old witch from Fuso racing for the McLaren team had just finished her qualifying for the upcoming Grand Prix of Miami, an event Shirley herself had considered attending. Shirley had grown to admire Kyoko because of her fighting spirit and aggressive style, and she had quickly become her favorite witch despite being on the racing scene for only her second full season. Shirley had never had the pleasure of meeting Ishikawa, but she felt completely invested in the young woman's performance in the way few public figures had done for her in recent memory. Now though Kyoko was causing Shirley nothing but angst, as her qualifying speed was not enough to get onto the pole and beat the dominant Williams Air Racing striker and its vaunted witch, Jenna Dunn. The way Kyoko was running it appeared to Shirley that her striker unit was down on power, which Shirley placed squarely on the team and its engine management crew.

"You idiots wouldn't know how to tune a magical engine if one got up and hit you in the face," Shirley said exasperatedly and rather loudly. She sighed and leaned back in the sofa.

A door slammed open from the other room and the sound of shoes emanated from the hardwood floor that lined Shirley's house. Shirley looked up from her spot on the couch to see her wife standing in the doorway between the living room and the main foyer of the house, her foot tapping on the floor and her arms crossed. A scowl was spread across her face.

"What's wrong?" Shirley asked her obviously irritated wife.

"You're shouting at the television again," Gertrud huffed indignantly. "Care to explain why you're shouting at the television?" she asked, placing a hand on her hip.

Shirley chuckled and leaned back in her spot on the sofa before answering, "If you must know, Captain Barkhorn, I'm just seething over the qualifying at the Air Grand Prix of Miami."

Gertrud raised an eyebrow that clearly stated a further explanation was necessary.

"Ishikawa's pit crew is apparently a band of gorillas who wouldn't know how to fine tune a striker unit even if it was made out of bananas!" Shirley finished dramatically.

Gertrud shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose while looking down at the floor. "Shouting at the television is not going to make your favorite witch go faster, Hase," she snapped. Shirley looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. Gertrud rubbed at her temples and took a deep breath before continuing.

"It's just that I'm trying to finish my manuscript so my editor can look at it this weekend. It's very hard to do that with you shouting at the television over a sport you could not possibly affect the outcome of from inside your living room." Shirley pouted and leaned back into the couch. A sly grin crossed Gertrud's face. "You aren't that powerful, Hase," she said as she relaxed her hand from her hip and stepped forward into the living room.

"And you don't do the same whenever the Cowboys are playing?" Shirley remarked somewhat smugly. Gertrud blushed and crossed her arms in a huff.

"Liberion football is a game of the utmost strategic nature!" Gertrud retorted. "I only get frustrated when the coaches make stupid calls that affect clock management." Shirley moved over on the large L shaped sofa and crossed her legs as Gertrud took a seat. "It's why I could never be a fan of the Denver Broncos. If they had a better coach than that buffoon Dan Reeves who actually knew a thing or two about clock management John Elway would have had a Super Bowl ring by now."

"Mmmhmm," Shirley murmured. She leaned in toward Gertrud and tilted her head sideways while placing her left hand gently on Gertrud's right. "Why don't we just sell everything here and move to Colorado?" she proposed. There was a lascivious smirk strewn across her face that caught Gertrud off guard.

"W-what?" Gertrud stammered while the blush on her face deepened. "Why would we ever do that?"

"Because," Shirley said in a husky voice. She reached up and began gently fiddling with Gertrud's skin, drawing circles with her finger up her wife's arm. Gertrud felt goosebumps crawl across her skin. "You could replace Dan Reeves as head coach of the Denver Broncos and I could breathe in that high country air all day every day," she whispered in Gertrud's ear. Gertrud was now blushing so hotly that her face could have set tinder on fire.

"I think you've been working too hard," Shirley said, desire seeping from her voice. She began to run her fingers along Gertrud's shoulder and fiddle with the buttons on her collared shirt. She could feel Gertrud's breath quicken as she slid a finger under the tight collar her wife was so fond of wearing. Shirley felt her tremble as she slid her fingers up and stroked the soft skin behind her ear. "You could really use a good bit of R&R, Captain Barkhorn," she whispered huskily. "Why don't I go ahead and help get you...situated…"

Shirley slowly crawled over her wife's lap to sit astride her. As she swung her leg over Gertrud's thigh she kneeled on the television remote, causing the channel to change. Normally in such a heated moment of passion that would have hardly have distracted Shirley, but midway through a passionate kiss Shirley could not help but hear the voice of a local newscaster begin to report on a story that had occurred three nights ago in their very home.

"We now turn our attention to the home invasion that occurred this week in Monte Vista. We now have further details that have just been released from the Sheriff's department," a female news anchor piped in a saccharine voice with far too much enthusiasm. Shirley immediately ceased her romantic activity and turned to the television. Gertrud, who was enjoying the moment, slapped the couch.

"Hase, since when are you such a tease?" Gertrud questioned in an irritated tone. She went to button her shirt back up since Shirley seemed content to remain focused on the television. "Ahem, earth to Charlotte Yeager. Are you there?" Gertrud crossed her arms over her chest and cleared her throat loudly when Shirley still didn't respond.

"They're talking about the break in at our house!" Shirley half shouted and stood up from the couch. " I'm hoping they can tell us something about that girl who snuck in," she explained eagerly.

"Why do you care so much about the girl who broke into our house?" Gertrud questioned. She was slightly bewildered at the intensity of her wife's response. "She's just another common criminal who got caught," Gertrud shrugged unapologetically.

Since the incident had occurred Gertrud had noticed Shirley had been rather hooked on what had happened in their home. She didn't quite understand why since she hadn't felt as if the incident was that traumatic given that neither Shirley or herself were hurt. Maybe it was the fact that she had put a firearm to the girl's head that had somehow unnerved her wife, Gertrud thought to herself. But even that should not have been reason to bother her enough that it would make her recount the incident several times over the past three days. Besides, it wasn't the first time Shirley had see her use a gun, they were war veterans after all. Something deeper was going on in Shirley's mind and it made Gertrud rather suspicious of her wife's curiosity.

"Because," Shirley began. "She didn't look like she was in the best shape when they took her away. I just have this feeling about her."

"What kind of feeling?" Gertrud bristled. She was becoming slightly aggravated at point. What kind of feelings do you have about someone who broke into your home other than anger?

"I dunno. . ." Shirley began. "Just that. . .she wasn't just some ordinary homeless person going from place to place. I got the vibe that there was a bit more to her than what we saw that night," Shirley finished sheepishly. She turned back to the television realizing how stupid her wife probably thought she sounded. Gertrud crossed her arms and scowled, upset that the spontaneous moment of passion she was sharing with her wife was interrupted by a newscast of all things. No, she thought to herself, interrupted by a feeling about a newscast.

"The suspect of the invasion has been identified by the Bexar County Sheriff's office as twenty one year old Michelle Taranto," the female anchor chirped. "Taranto, from the borough of Netcong, New Jersey, was a distinguished war veteran during Operation Desert Storm against the neuroi in the Persian Gulf."

Shirley's mouth fell open and whirled around to face her wife. "You see!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "I knew she wasn't just some common crook. She's a witch!" Gertrud's earlier irritation fell away as her curiosity was piqued by this revelation. The elder Karlsandic soldier sat on the edge of the sofa and listened closely to the newscast.

"Taranto was most well known for an engagement with the enemy on January 19th, 1991, where her courageousness earned her the Silver Star," the newscaster continued with the same artificial smile still plastered to her face. "Authorities believe that Taranto was traveling across the country as a vagabond and arrived in San Antonio earlier that day before being arrested and arraigned by the Sheriff's department on charges of breaking and entering and intent to commit grand theft."

"What a sad situation," the male co-anchor remarked with feigned remorse. "You can only help but wonder what would drive such a decorated war veteran to commit a crime like this."

"Sad situation indeed," the female news anchor replied. "And now back to live news..." Shirley quickly shut off the television and bolted up from her seat on the sofa. Gertrud took note of the urgency and raised her eyebrows.

"Hase, what are you doing?" Gertrud asked with worry creeping into her voice. She knew what it meant when her wife got this riled up.

Shirley bolted over to a closet nearby and grabbed a pair of shoes. "I'm going to the county jail, where else?"

"You're not going to bail that girl out are you?" Gertrud asked, rising from her seat and crossing her arms..

"Why else would I be going to the county jail?" Shirley replied. Her face contorted in an expression that meant the answer should have be obvious. "I've gotta do something to help."

"The right thing is to let a court decide what will be done with her, not go bail her out of jail so she can break into someone else's house!" Gertrud snapped. She was no longer in the mood to entertain her wife's foolishness. "Why can't you just let things be? You aren't obligated to save her." The sour expression etched into her face made it pretty clear to Shirley just what she thought of her decision.

"I'm doing what I think is the right thing to do," Shirley stated firmly. "I have an opportunity for her that I can't pass up and that she probably wouldn't refuse."

"What do you mean you have an offer she probably wouldn't refuse?" Gertrud cried. She was deeply suspicious of Shirley's intentions. This was so typical of her hot headed wife. Act first and think later.

"Are you just going to doubt everything that I decide to do?" Shirley shot back harshly, clearly sick of the criticism that was dripping from her wife's voice. "It's like you don't trust me to make my own decisions. I'm not a child, Gertrud Barkhorn." The use of her full name stung like needles against her face. Shirley turned around and bent down to put her shoes on. "If you won't help me than use your DARPA clearance to pull up her record," she muttered over her shoulder, "If I'm going at this alone I at least want to know everything I can about her."

At that moment there was a tenseness between the two longtime partners that could be felt for miles around. This was not just a typical disagreement between two lovers. This was a disagreement over something that potentially had far ranging implications, and neither of the two seemed willing to give any ground. Gertrud could feel the blood pulsing in her ears as she tried to think of a response encapsulating just how ridiculous and irresponsible she thought her partner was being. It was only when Shirley turned to face her again and she saw the streaks of angry tears on her wife's flushed face did she bite her tongue. She thought about how smart and capable her wife was and the fact that her intuition had never steered her wrong. It was part of what had made her such a great fighter in the war. Gertrud walked slowly over to her wife and enveloped her into a tight hug.

Shirley stiffened in shock momentarily before relaxing into her wife's embrace. "Hase. . .please be careful," her wife whispered into her shoulder, "I don't know what I would do if something happened to you."

Shirley tightened her embrace on her wife, "I promise I will exercise the utmost caution Mrs. Yeager." Gertrud lifted her head and smiled at the use of her married name.

"Thank you, Hase," she replied. "I promise I will get you the records you need, ok?" Gertrud stepped away from her wife and straightened her blouse, slightly embarrassed at the highly emotional display. "Now, go do whatever it is you're planning," she finished awkwardly before strolling off towards the phone to make the first of many calls to acquire the information her wife wanted.

Shirley shook her head and strolled over and stood behind her wife. "I love you, Trude. Always will." she murmured kissing her wife on the cheek. She laughed lightly at the blush that rose in her love's cheeks. "I'll be back darling," she called as she strolled out the door. Stepping into the garage she clicked the unlock button on key fob in her hand. The lights on the red Porsche blipped in the low light. She might as well take the car that started this mess, right?


	3. Bailing Out

Bexar County Jail was a minimum security facility, one that housed criminals awaiting further arraignment or were serving out only short sentences for minor offenses. There were several guards, but none of them were armed or clad in armor the way they would be in a larger, more secure facility. The prisoners were put in cells of two inmates, each one bunked in a six foot by eight foot space with a toilet and two bunk beds. Michelle was currently sitting in one of these bunks, but she had been placed alone. She didn't understand why she'd been left all by herself and figured it was some kind of a mistake. Not that she really cared anyway considering the privacy was kind of nice.

What Michelle did care about was sinking feeling emanating from the bottom of her throat to the deepest pits of her stomach. She knew what she'd done was illegal but didn't curse herself for getting caught. Part of her wanted to chastise herself for being so careless and stupid. But the sick feeling curling in her stomach overwhelmed that desire. What she felt sliding along her insides was nothing short of overwhelming defeat. Her eyes watered at the thought that she may have really screwed herself this time.

She finally managed to curse herself for being so petty about the encounter with the auburn haired woman. Sneaking into her garage to get back at her with some half baked scheme for revenge was not only a waste of time but incredibly stupid. Why did she have feel the need to go after this woman out of all the people who had insulted or belittled her at some point in time? It left her with no sense of accomplishment, even though she had successfully gotten where no vagabond had gone before, at least none she knew of. Instead of a sense of fulfillment, it got her nothing short of a shotgun to the back of her head and a one way ride in a squad car. That had to be the worst part of the whole situation. She was not above petty crime to survive; pickpocketing, shoplifting, and even breaking into cars were all part of the routine for her by this point. And in all her time doing the things that she did to get by she never had once been caught. Now she had been caught and by a woman who appeared to be in her fifties toting a shotgun with a laser sight of all people. The whole incident gave her pangs of her embarrassment that seemed to ring throughout her whole mind and body.

Tired and emotionally sick from the three days she had spent in the jail cell, Michelle laid back on the lower bunk bed that she had occupied for herself. Now she was not only without her Walkman, but she was now without her entire rucksack of clothes and living supplies she had accumulated over the period of time that she had wandered the country as a vagabond. She had enough supplies and enough survival training to make it without a home for as long as she realistically wanted, especially with her skills at committing petty crimes. Now those things were all gone, confiscated by the law enforcement officials who had detained her for a stupid vengeful crime that had gone too far.

"This is how it ends," she said out loud to herself. She could not imagine a future beyond the confinements of the county jail cell. "Hell of a way to go out, I suppose."

"Think you're being a bit dramatic, Kid," a gruff male voice said from outside the jail cell. "Sit up, you got company."

Michelle sat up on the bed and walked over to the bars of the jail cell. She expected she was about to be taken to an arraignment hearing now. She thought two armed officers would be put her in cuffs shortly and escorting her in front of a judge to await her ultimate fate at the hands of the law. Instead what she saw was more than unexpected; the auburn haired woman was standing in the hallway next to a guard dressed in a tan uniform wearing aviator sunglasses. The guard scratched his head and glanced back and forth between the two women before turning to the auburn haired woman. "You sure you want to do this, ma'am?"

"One hundred percent," the woman said assuredly. Confidence seemed to radiate easily from her voice. "I know exactly what I'm doing, Officer. Your assistance is no longer required." The woman raised an eyebrow at the officer seeming to state that she didn't appreciate being questioned.

Michelle could not help but grip the bars tighter and hang onto every gesture and word the auburn haired woman made. Cautiously silent, she watched as the guard sighed and reached down onto his belt and grabbed a ring of keys. Jangling the keys in his hand, he spun them around once on his finger before reaching for one key and placing it into the lock on Michelle's jail cell. With a hefty clanging sound he turned over the lock to the cell, opened the jail door wide, and nodded at the auburn haired woman. Michelle watched as the woman stepped into the cell and sat on the bed Michelle had been resting upon. The guard closed the door to the cell, the lock clanging shut. He stayed outside the cell watching them in a bored manner.

"Sit down with me and stay awhile," the auburn haired asked in a polite tone that implied it wasn't really a request. Michelle rolled her eyes at the phrasing though. Of course she was going to stay awhile, she thought. She was trapped in a six by eight foot prison cell. Where else was there to go? Still, she had a feeling in her head that this woman had something important to say and she took a seat next to her on the seat.

"So," the auburn haired woman began, a slight curl of amusement sneaking into her voice. "We clearly met on the wrong foot."

"You mean the wrong two feet I'd say," Michelle scoffed at the woman. She crossed her arms and diverted her eyes away from the woman's intense gaze. "I'm sorry for breaking into your house," she muttered, realizing she should probably apologize to the one person who could get her out of this mess.

"What were you thinking you were going to accomplish when you did that?" the woman asked her. Michelle noticed that she wasn't asking in a scolding or belittling manner. She seemed genuinely curious actually.

"I don't fucking know," Michelle said out loud with a huff. "I guess I just wanted to see what you were all about. I didn't even learn that much honestly except that you got a few fancy cars."

"You got a favorite amongst them?" the woman asked. Michelle shrugged her shoulders and made an off handed gesture.

"The Ferrari was pretty cool, I suppose," she muttered. She still kept her gaze away from the other woman's, it held too many questions. "Not like it matters. I doubt I'll ever see one again," she finished while gesturing to the cell around them.

"Don't be so sure that you'll never see one again," the woman stated with a slight smirk on her face. The statement finally made Michelle uncross her arms and look over at the red head, locking eyes with her in a way that she hadn't done with anyone in quite a long time. "I'm getting you out of here, Michelle."

Michelle eyes widened in shock at the woman's bold declaration. "What do you mean. . ." Michelle began. Her mind began to spin over what the woman was promising. Getting her out? What did that mean? Were the two going to fly the coup and make a hasty escape? She was, for lack of a better expression, kind of up shit's creek without a paddle at the moment. "How are you going to get me out of here?"

"Simple. I dropped all the charges against you and I paid your bond," the red head stated.

Michelle felt her jaw drop and quickly shut it. "You gotta be kidding me," she said. She was getting bailed out? After breaking into this woman's home, she was seriously getting bailed out? And by the very woman who nearly hit her with her car no less. This had to be some kind of dream. Maybe she felt bad for nearly running her over? No, that couldn't be it. There had to be some catch. Or maybe the lady was just crazy. Whatever the reason, Michelle wasn't stupid enough to pass up her only opportunity for freedom. She could always ditch this lady at any time if she needed to.

"So you're really going to bail me out?" Michelle asking squinting at her skeptically. She didn't know what this lady had up her sleeve. Hopefully it wasn't another shotgun.

"I've already signed all the paperwork and put in the check," the woman smiled. "I even got the rucksack they confiscated from you." She signaled to the deputy sheriff to open the jail cell. He hauled himself off of the wall and grabbed his keys, opening the jail cell with a bored expression. The auburn haired woman stood up as the guard opened the jail cell and held the heavy door open. "You're free unless you want to stay here and do some kind of self inflicted penance, that is," she told Michelle gesturing at the open door.

She stood up from the bunk and cautiously walked out of the cell. The elation of taking those first steps outside the confines of the cell made her heart beat with joy. She was actually free it seemed. The police would no longer be pursuing her for any reason unless she did something stupid again. The deputy sheriff standing outside of the cell looked at the woman and shook his head while sighing, "You're crazy, Lady. You know that right?"

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the redhead smirk. "Yeah, but that's why my wife loves me so much." The guard's face blushed heatedly and he made himself busy closing the door behind them.

Michelle turned to the woman, looking her over once more. Well she didn't seem to be crazy, which meant she was clever. Michelle couldn't decide if that was better or worse. She smiled cautiously and held her hand out to the woman, "Thank you. Really. I know you don't have to do this."

The auburn haired woman smiled back and shook Michelle's hand gently. "You look like you could use a shower and a bite to eat," she said in a matter of fact manner before strolling forwards and leaving Michelle to follow. "Come on, we'll go back to my place so you can freshen up a bit," she called over her shoulder.

Michelle, bewildered but grateful for the woman's offer jogged to catch up to her rescuer. By now she was way overdue to wash her clothes and take a shower, her self imposed deadlines long having passed since she had spent a few days in the county jail. Now not only going to get a clean shower and hopefully hot meal but she was going to get them at the house that she had tried to break into. This time she pinched herself on the elbow. The lady raised a brow at her quizzically when she saw her.

"Just checking something," Michelle mumbled and ducked her head. They quickly passed through the hallways of the jail and grabbed her rucksack at the front desk.

"Thank you, gentlemen," the woman smiled brightly before stepping into the fresh air of San Antonio with Michelle close on her heels.

The woman waved Michelle over and pointed to the red Porsche that had nearly squashed her only a few days ago. Michelle shook her head. All remaining doubt about this woman's sanity or mental stability vanished. This lady was a lot smarter than she looked. Signaling her to get into the car, Michelle quickly put her rucksack in the front located trunk of the Porsche and shut it quickly before sitting inside the car and buckling her seatbelt. She took time to gently caress the leather of the seat and the dash inside the Porsche. It was by far the most luxurious car she had ever been in. The auburn haired woman got into the driver's seat and buckled her seatbelt before starting the car. After clutching into first gear she pulled smoothly out onto the San Antonio streets. Michelle had been comfortable to remain silent until she remembered that she was essentially riding off to her potential doom with a complete stranger.

Michelle cleared her throat, "So I never did ask. . ." She watched as the woman turned onto the exit ramp and slowly began to accelerate the car. "What's your name?"

"The name's Yeager," the woman replied. "Charlotte Yeager." Immediately after the woman said that she stomped onto the clutch pedal and threw the gearshift lever into second. She then floored the accelerator. Nothing happened at first, but suddenly Michelle felt the car shoot forward as its four tires clawed into the pavement and its engine worked into its power band. She hung onto the sides of her seat and the door handle tightly. The car continued to accelerate and Michelle watched as the woman continued to harshly shift the car until it built itself up to a speed that was surely fast enough to result in one's license getting revoked. Okay, she had spoken to soon. She was definitely crazy.

Once the car was up to a speed the woman seemed satisfied with she turned her head and smiled at her broadly, "But you can call me Shirley for short."

A deadly fast car? Auburn hair? A bust that stood up way better than it had any business doing for a woman of Shirley's apparent age? Michelle's memory immediately flickered back to a time many years ago, when she she first arrived at the United States Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. There were many witches who were immortalized in various paintings and statues at the academy; the pugnacious Dominica Gentile and her ace wife Jane Godfrey, the noble Hispanian-Liberion night witch Jennifer DeBlanc, and the methodical but quiet sharpshooter Gina "Hawkeye" Preddy, who scored the most kills of any Liberion witch during the Second Neuroi War. But among all the other witches the most immortalized was Charlotte Yeager, the first witch to break the sound barrier and the lone Liberion witch to serve with the most famous elite unit of the war; the 501st Joint Fighter wing. Michelle was in the presence of an actual Strike Witch. She couldn't believe she hadn't recognized it before.

"Holy shit," Michelle blurted out. "You're really...you're actually…." Her mind was at a loss for words and she made a vague sweeping hand gesture up and down Shirley's silhouette. She eventually managed to spit out the first thought she had, "You look really good for your age."

Michelle immediately realized how stupid she probably sounded and blushed deeply before putting her hand over her face. But not before she watched Shirley slap the Porsche's steering wheel and begin to laugh boisterously. "Gee thanks," Shirley said through her fits of laughter. "It's nice to meet you too, Michelle Taranto." She then pressed down on the accelerator. Michelle could hear two turbochargers hiss to life and shoot the Porsche down the highway at an utterly ridiculous and most likely illegal speed.

* * *

Thanks to the absolutely ludicrous speed Shirley kept up on the highway Michelle arrived back at the Yeager residence in no time at all. Like the first time she had "visited" the gigantic mansion that Shirley inhabited, she took time to take it all in. Her eyes grew wide with awe as the manor came into view, large marble statues of short-haired pointers greeting her and Shirley as the Porsche pulled up the brick and mortar driveway. She could see large rabbit topiaries guarding the front doors. A grey Ford pickup truck sat in the driveway.

"I gotta ask," Michelle spoke up. Shirley looked over at her as she pressed a button on the Porsche's visor to open up her garage door. "How the hell to do you afford a place like this?"

Michelle realized that what she'd just asked was probably incredibly rude, but Shirley just smirked and began to explain as she parked the Porsche in its spot next to the Ferrari in the garage. "Well it all goes back to my days after the Second Neuroi War. I lined up a job for myself as an actress and stuntwoman in movies about witches. I worked with Howard Hughes on a bunch of his films, flying strikers and having acting parts in films like _Hell's Angels 2_. Although that one is probably a bit before your time."

"I've heard of it," Michelle replied. She sadly could not say that she had seen the movie since it came out years before Michelle was even a glimmer in her parent's eyes. She followed Shirley as she exited the car and walked through the garage. She marveled at the Ferrari sitting nearby. She wanted to reach down and touch it but kept her hands at bay.

"So that set me up pretty well," Shirley continued. "Then my wife entered the picture and she wrote a famous book called _I Struck Back_ which became a national bestseller. We made a nice chunk of change off of that."

Michelle's eyebrows immediately went up. _I Struck Back_ was a title she was definitely familiar with, having both read the book and seen its early 1980s adaptation to the silver screen. She loved both the book and film. The book recounted the career of one of the most famous witches of all time, particularly her run with the most legendary unit of the Second Neuroi War. Michelle suddenly realized what that meant.

"Hold on hold on," she interrupted. "You mean to tell me you're married to Gertrud Barkhorn? As in 302 confirmed neuroi kills Gertrud Barkhorn? As in 'Soldier of Karlsland' Gertrud Barkhorn?"

Shirley laughed at her wife's trademark phrase coming out of the younger witch's mouth. "That's Trude for you," she remarked. "Only difference is now her weapon of choice is a computer instead of a machine gun."

"Funny, I thought her weapon of choice was a shotgun," Michelle remarked drly.

Shirley looked back at Michelle as she reached into her pocket to get her house keys. "About that," Shirley said. She grabbed her house keys and jiggled one into the door lock. "I'm really sorry that happened. Trude can be a bit overzealous at times."

"Hey, if someone broke into my mansion I might have not been so kind as to make them get on their knees and wait for the cops," Michelle said. She couldn't really blame Gertrud for protecting her and her wife's home. The memory of being held at gunpoint only a few days earlier replayed again in her head briefly. Even though she understood, it definitely wasn't something she was keen on experiencing again. "So, you were explaining how you managed to afford this place?"

Shirley turned the key over and the deadbolt lock opened up. "Anyway, we were pretty set from my acting earnings and Trude's books. We could live off of that stuff pretty much forever and live pretty well. But about thirteen years ago I had the idea to take a good chunk of our money and invest it in this company called Apple. That made us truly filthy rich. And about eight years ago I had the bright idea to invest in another company called Microsoft. Since then we've had more money than Trude or I will ever know what to do with, and it'll probably stay that way."

"Well damn, you sure didn't leave any stones unturned," Michelle replied. She could not imagine having the will or income to throw around in investments that Shirley apparently had. Shirley and Gertrud were more than just loaded, Michelle thought. They were probably the wealthiest people she had ever met.

As if the outside of their house was not already a massive indicator of wealth, the main foyer was perhaps an even greater indication of the couple's massive fortune. On the main wall was a large portrait of Shirley in a green United States Army Air Corps attire sitting in a chair, her flight jacket bulging over her voluptuous bust. Leather flight goggles hung around her neck and her green jacket bore numerous pins and stripes that indicated both her rank as a Captain and her participation in numerous air campaigns during the Second Neuroi War. Next to the portrait of Shirley was an equally large portrait of Gertrud Barkhorn. Like Shirley's the portrait portrayed her sitting in a chair, but she wore a grey and red Karlsandic officer's jacket that bore the Karlsandic eagle and Balkenkreuz. Around her neck was Karlsland's highest military honor, the Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves and Swords, and she held a Karlsand officer's cap upon her lap. Both portraits seemed to glow under the light of a large fixed chandelier. Michelle looked up at both portraits in awe. She could never imagine herself being immortalized in such an extravagant manner.

The rest of the main foyer was lined with ornate ivory molding and done in muted earth tones that matched the solid marble floors. Romanesque columns dotted the walls while various paintings and other decorative art pieces filled the spaces between them. Michelle took time to take it all in as she walked through the house. Their home was was tastefully done in a timeless fashion with colors and architecture that would never be out of style. It was so pristine that she didn't even want to set her rucksack down on the floor. She was afraid of sullying it with her dirty bag and potentially angering the other war veteran that was hidden somewhere in the massive home. Shirley saw her expression and assured her it was okay. Michelle set the bag on Shirley's ornate curving staircase as gently as she could.

"Why don't we go pay Trude a visit?" Shirley proposed.

Michelle tensed up at the thought of seeing Gertrud again in person. How would the elder Karlslandic witch who held her at gunpoint react to her presence? Shirley would be there to provide a buffer, but she wasn't sure she could duck fast enough if she pulled another weapon. "Does she even know about…" Michelle began and gestured lamely at herself.

"Me bailing you out? She's very aware," Shirley said with a smirk. "Trust me, despite what happened a few nights ago she really doesn't bite..." A slightly devilish smirk came across Shirley's face. "Much." Shirley chuckled and reverted back to a gentle smile, but Michelle was still wary of being formally introduced. What was she even supposed to say? She couldn't just shake her hand and tell her 'Hi, I'm Michelle, sorry for trying to steal your shit'.

The two of them walked down another marble floored hallway adjacent from the main foyer. Michelle took careful note of all the paintings and photographs that adorned the wall. Some of them were just art pieces there for ambience, but a few of them were pictures of Shirley and Gertrud together. One which caught Michelle's eye was a series of photos that must have been recently taken in a photo booth, which featured the two of them smiling and Gertrud giving Shirley a small scowl as she was kissed on the cheek, but not without blushing deeply enough to make a tomato jealous. Michelle chuckled at the sight of that one. Shirley and Gertrud were an interesting couple, that much was certain.

Shirley led Michelle over to two large carved wooden doors with silver handles. She reached up and knocked on the left door. "Trude, you in there?" Shirley said from the other side of the door. "We've got company," she announced smiling at Michelle.

"I'm getting a fax, Hase," Gertrud called curtly from the other side of the door. Shirley looked back at Michelle and rolled her eyes.

"Workaholic," she muttered to herself. "I'm coming in, Trude," Shirley said loudly, placing her hand on the handle.

"Just a few minutes!" Gertrud responded impatiently.

"I'm about to open the door," she called back, a teasing lilt creeping into her voice.

"Don't open the door, damn it!"

Michelle raised her eyebrow and watched as Shirley leveled her foot up and kicked the door, making it bang against the wall with a loud crash. Michelle flinched slightly at the sound of the door being kicked open. So much for subtlety she thought to herself.

Once the door had settled Shirley waved for Michelle to follow her and she treaded after her cautiously. On the other side of the large doors a room that seemed to have come straight out of a castle greeted her. Unlike the main foyer it's flooring was a parquet hardwood and its moldings were what appeared to be carved ivy vines that trailed around the ceiling. The walls were intersped with large bay windows that had built in seating. An assortment of bright, blooming plants were scattered around the room. Shelves covered the wall space in between the windows and were lined to the tops with books of several varieties, ranging from old manuals on striker technology to newer literary works that appeared to be fictitious. Michelle scanned the books closely noticing they happened to be neatly categorized and alphabetized.

"Find anything that catches your eye?" a Karlsandic accented voice said from over her shoulder. Michelle turned around to meet the voice face to face. She immediately recognized the black haired woman with brown eyes standing behind her. It was none other than Gertrud Barkhorn. Only this time she didn't look like she had just come out of a military workout wielding a shotgun, but instead was wearing a white collared shirt with short sleeves and riding pants instead of the military issue ones she was wearing before. Riding boots adorned her feet and legs, as opposed to the tactical boots that she wore the night of their first meeting.

"So you're the girl who broke into my house," Gertrud said dryly. Michelle swallowed nervously but maintained a steely look on the woman's eyes. She got the strong impression that Gertrud was not someone to reveal weakness to. "Normally I wouldn't be so kind to someone like you, but you did something to earn Shirley's favor so that means you must be trustworthy." Michelle who had been ready to stare the woman down was surprised when she offered her hand as a welcoming gesture. "It's nice to actually meet you, Michelle Taranto."

"You too, Mrs. Barkhorn," Michelle replied slowly. She shook Gertrud's hand and felt the older witch's grip tighten. It was way tighter than any woman Gertrud's age should have. Eventually Gertrud relinquished Michelle's hand and she pulled it away, shaking it a bit trying to regain the blood flow. "You got a lot of books. You seriously spend your time reading all this?" Michelle asked in slightly annoyed manner while still flexing her fingers.

"Sometimes," Gertrud said with a slight smile as she looked about her study. "My work requires me to have extensive knowledge of my subjects. Something caught your eye though?"

"Oh yeah," Michelle said turning back to the book case. She pulled one book off the bookcase and dusted it off. The book was entitled _Of Damon and Pythias: The Remarkable Story of Dominica Gentile and Jane Godfrey_. Looking at the cover, she looked down and saw it was written by none other than the Karlsandic witch before her. "You know Dom and Jane?"

"I know a lot of the original air witches," Gertrud stated. She looked around at all the books in the study and at her desk, the Apple computer upon it sitting with a dimly lit screen. "It's what I make my living on, making sure their stories are told for future generations to look back on. I don't want them to ever be forgotten. But to answer the question I think you were really asking, yes, I know Dominica and Jane in person very well."

"Dom was kind of my hero back in the day," Michelle said as she looked down at the book cover. "I learned about her one day in a history class. I always said I would be just like her. Never could get my magic to work out quite like hers but I always admired that she never backed down from a fight and never lost a wingman. Plus she was Romagnan-Liberion, which meant she at least was kinda like me."

"You can go ahead and read it if you want," Gertrud said gesturing towards one of the far windows. "It'd give you something to do while my wife and I discussed some things." She turned her attention back to Shirley, who was sitting cross legged next to one of the large open windows near some of Gertrud's plants. "Shirley and I need to chat in private."

"Better yet why don't you go take a shower," Shirley said standing up. "Trude and I will be done by the time that you're finished and then I'll get us some dinner. How about you choose tonight."

"Me?" Michelle remarked in surprise. She looked back at the book and then to Shirley. "Ummm, well, how's the pizza in this town?"

"I know a good place that does delivery," Shirley said smiling. "Why don't you run and get cleaned up? One of the guest bathrooms is upstairs, second door on your left. Feel free to use one of the rolled up towels. I'll bring you a change of clothes shortly."

Michelle nodded and walked out of the library and back to where she'd left her rucksack. While she still was not entirely sure of what exactly was happening, she wasn't stupid enough to pass up this kind of temporary luxury. Things for once seemed like they could be kind of nice for a change. She climbed the stairs as she headed towards what she was sure was an ornate bathroom. If things got too weird she could always dip again and disappear into the night. Michelle wasn't about to start relying on strangers any time soon.


	4. An Offering

**AN: Apologies for this chapter taking so long.**

 **I do want to give a quick shout out to my awesome beta reader and girlfriend snitchxwitch. This was a jump from her normal fanfiction territory to beta read this story and she's helped me make it better with each chapter. Go check out her stories if you get the chance.**

 **Thanks for the support thus far. Please review and critique!**

 **-Symbiotic.**

* * *

When Gertrud was certain Michelle was far enough down the hall to be well out ear shot she walked up to the large wooden doors and shut them firmly. Shirley, who had returned to her sitting position on one of the window nooks next to some of Gertrud's beloved moth orchids watched her wife with mild bemusement. Her eye landed on the violet and white flowering plants between herself and her wife. Shirley was still mildly amused that Gertrud had taken up gardening as one of her hobbies this late in life.

The gardening hobby was actually something that Shirley had encouraged several years ago after one of her wife's intense training sessions that she still undertook even though it had been years since they left the military. Even in her advanced age Gertrud would still get up at somewhere around 4:30 in the morning, eat a small meal, and either went running or for a bicycle ride each day to keep herself in top physical condition. Shirley constantly worried that her wife would overwork herself and suffer an injury. And true to her concerns, several years ago Gertrud had an unfortunate crash while on a bike ride that left her with a broken leg. Thankfully with the help of a good doctor, a healing witch, and a few screws in her thigh, Gertrud would be back to her old self eventually. But during the eight week healing period she saw Gertrud was at a total loss as what to do with herself outside of her writing. It was during this period that Shirley bought Gertrud her first orchid plants, initially as a sign of love and virility. She soon found her wife utterly fascinated with maintaining the flowering plants and trying to keep alive them as long as possible. Even after her injury had healed Shirley noticed Gertrud still fretted over maintaining the orchids, taking it up as some kind of challenge that she could not possibly back down from. Now Gertrud had several orchids that she maintained along with a variety of other species of plants inside her indoor garden, adding much needed life and ambience to the otherwise rather austere study that she worked from so often. She had even installed a humidifier to make sure her precious orchids were at their top condition.

"Your orchids look stunning as always," Shirley said as she reached down and touched one of the leaves before bending over from her chair to smell one. "And they smell wonderful."

"Thank you, Hase," Gertrud said as she turned away from the door. "The door doesn't appear to be damaged after you made your rather rude entrance in here when I said I only needed a few minutes." She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, "Will you ever learn to be more patient?"

"Trude, can't you learn to be a bit less of a shut in?" Shirley teased gently. She got up from her seat and went up behind her wife to snake her arms around her waist. Gertrud tried to pull away initially but looked back toward her wife and blushed as Shirley ducked her head onto her shoulder. "I would like it if you introduced yourself to our company sometimes." She turned her wife around to face her.

Shirley placed her lips upon her wife's forehead and gave her a quick kiss. The kiss made Gertrud blush even deeper and hide her reddened face in Shirley bosom. "You're so ridiculous, you know that?" she mumbled against her wife's skin

"And isn't that one of the many reasons why you love me? " Shirley asked while holding her wife.

This time it was Gertrud's turn to roll her eyes in amusement. "I suppose it is," she said with a slight sigh in her voice. She gently broke away from her wife's embrace and looked back over at her desk. "Enough of the pleasantries though. I need to show you something, Hase."

Shirley tilted her head curiously and followed Gertrud back over to her desk. Upon the desk were several documents that Gertrud had begun to neatly organize upon the wooden surface. Shirley looked down at the documents closely. All of them bore the seals of various United States government agencies; most of them the United States Air Force and the Department of Defense. Shirley smiled at all the documents. Her wife's status as a civilian consultant of the Defense Acquisition Research Project Agency, or DARPA, along with her numerous connections within the Federal Government of the United States meant that such records were never more than a phone call out of her reach. It was a testament to her wife's involvement that ensured her adopted homeland's magical capabilities against the neuroi remained strong, and Shirley greatly appreciated it.

All of the documents before Shirley bore the headline of Michelle's name, Michelle Aletta Taranto. Shirley looked closely at Michelle's full name. She knew it was common for Romagnan-Liberions to give their children middle names that reflected a saint, some Romagnan martyr from a bygone era, or after some desirable virtue. Shirley was not familiar with any Alettas in Romagnan history but she was sure it was someone or something worthy of Michelle having a middle name as such. Shirley went to look closely at the records before Gertrud spoke up.

"You're not going to believe what I found out about our guest," Gertrud said raising an eyebrow as she reached for one of the documents. She found the one she was looking for and handed it to Shirley. It bore the sigil of the United States Department of Defense. It was an official dossier of Michelle's background.

"Michelle Aletta Taranto," Shirley read out loud. "Born in 1972. Hometown is Netcong, New Jersey. Magical potential first realized in 1982, applied for the United States Air Force Witch Academy in 1984, accepted the same year, and completed officer's training at the age of sixteen in 1988 before being placed with the 27th Fighter Wing, stationed at Langley, and after being checked out on the F-15C Eagle striker unit." Shirley nodded her head impressed. The F-15 was the striker that almost all witches who entered the Air Force wanted to fly, being the top air combat tool in Liberion's impressive arsenal of striker units.

"There's more though," Gertrud remarked. She leaned in over Shirley's shoulder and pointed out something on the document, "Look at the rank she graduated with."

Shirley looked closely at the document and raised her eyebrows. "No way," Shirley said with surprise. She did a quick double take and looked at the document to make sure she was reading it correctly. "She graduated as a Captain in the Air Force? How did she do that? Is that even possible?"

"She was salutatorian of the class of 1988 at the Air Force Academy," Gertrud explained. "She also was a company commander by the time she left the academy and had exemplary grades in all subjects as well as in Air Combat training. As far as being a student, over all she did better than Hartmann or I did during our training back in Karlsland."

Shirley raised her eyebrows at that revelation. She understood the possibility that Erica Hartmann was not the best student. Karlsand's Finest and the greatest witch in terms of kill total was thick headed and stubborn outside the realm of combat and probably did not think the academic side of becoming an aerial witch was a worthwhile pursuit. But exceeding even Gertrud's level of commitment to magical craft and academics? That was something that even Shirley was surprised by.

Shirley continued to flip through the pages of documents arranged on her wife's desk. "In 1990 she was called upon during Operation Desert Shield to fight with the newly reformed 504th Joint Fighter Wing, better known as the Ardor Witches, one of two Liberion witches to serve in the unit," Shirley read out loud. She looked back over to Gertrud, eyebrows raised. "She was placed in a Joint Fighter Wing?"

"Not only that, Hase," Gertrud replied and pointed to another section of the document. "She was their battlefield commander during Desert Storm. She was leading witches into battle against the neuroi, and some of the best witches in the world at that. The Joint Fighter Wings weren't a joke in the Gulf, you know?"

"Elite of the elite," Shirley said with a shake of her head. This girl was proving to be a lot more than Shirley had ever expected her to be. "What about the actions that won her the Silver Star?"

Gertrud picked up another document, this one with the United States Air Force symbol on the top left hand corner, and presented it to her wife. "You'll want to look at this."

Shirley took the document and began to scan over it slowly before reading out loud. "On January 19th, 1991, in the skies over a sector of Ziraqian airspace known as H3, Captain Taranto participated in an escort mission of a strike package seeking to destroy a neuroi nest that had taken over the Otoman Ziraqi Suleyman Ali air base. The strike package was engaged by a flight of several neuroi craft. In both beyond visual range and close quarters combat, Captain Taranto shot down five neuroi fighters for the loss of only one member of the strike package and the complete destruction of the Suleyman Ali neuroi nest." Shirley looked up at her wife with her eyebrows nearly in her hairline and mouth agape. "You mean to tell me that she was an ace in a day?!"

"It appears that way," Gertrud said in response. She took the document from her wife's hands and set it down on the table. "She left the air force after Desert Storm. This was despite the fact that many believed she was still at least partially combat capable and were going to recommend her for an instructor's position at the air combat school at Nellis Air Force Base. No one quite understands why but her superiors noted that she had lost all interest in continuing her career with the Air Force, so they offered her an honorable discharge soon after the war ended."

Shirley tried to wrap her head around the documents. Everything here indicated that Michelle was an exemplary witch with a record that was among the best witches of modern times. She was clearly someone who would be set up reasonably well with captain level pay grades and probably would have received a promotion to the rank of major and even beyond, but instead she was living her life as a vagabond traveling across the country? Something wasn't adding up. Shirley wasn't sure she had all the equation just yet though. All of that aside, she did have an idea of what Michelle needed the most right now.

"She needs a purpose," Shirley blurted out loud. Gertrud raised an eyebrow at Shirley's statement.

"What are you talking about?" Gertrud asked. Shirley remained silent while looking over at the documents on Gertrud's desk. "Hase?" she asked worriedly. Her wife was getting that look again.

Shirley looked up at her wife an intense gaze that Gertrud knew was a sign of her wife's intuition coming into play. "She needs a purpose. That's why she's been roaming around the country for so long after she left the Air Force. She has nothing to drive herself."

"And you're suggesting we're supposed to do something about that?" Gertrud questioned sharply. Her displeasure was starting to make itself apparent in her voice.

"You know that certain sport that I enjoy watching so much that I've wanted to get involved in for a while now?" Shirley said with a sly smile across her face, and a glint in her eyes. Gertud was taken aback by the sudden change in direction.

"What? You mean those air races you watch?" Gertrud replied with confusion. The realization of what her wife was getting at hit her like a ton of bricks. "Charlotte Yeager, you are not doing what I think you're thinking of doing!" Gertrud's face flushed in shocked anger at her wife's foolishness.

"Oh come on, Trude! Think about it. It would be so cool and I'm sure Michelle would love the idea," her wife replied nearly bouncing in her spot.

Getrud crossed her arms angrily, "Hase, when I said that you couldn't make your favorite witch go faster through the tv screen I didn't mean go out and find your own racing witch!"

Shirley walked up to her wife and place her hands on her shoulders. "Please, Trude. Just think about it for a minute. This would give an old witch something to be enthusiastic about again and possibly give another witch a new purpose. One who clearly deserves another chance." Gertrud huffed and refused to look at her wife's face.

"Besides, I won't be in any danger, my love. Michelle would be the one racing." She had a sudden thought, "And. . .it would give you someone to train again," Shirley baited. She felt the change in her wife's body language and knew she had her. She moved her hands from Trude's shoulders to her face and leaned in close.

"Please?" she asked gently before kissing her wife on the nose. She smirked as her wife blushed. That never got old.

Gertrud tried to come up with a good reason why she shouldn't let Shirley pursue this and honestly, she couldn't think of one that Shirley wouldn't argue her way out of. She knew her wife would be well out of harm's way and that was always generally her most important concern. She sighed deeply in defeat. "Alright, Hase, you can do this. But at the first sign of trouble I'm shutting it down," she warned wagging her finger at her wife who was now grinning broadly.

"Thank you, Trude. You won't regret this." Shirley smiled and her wife rolled her eyes.

"Well, I suppose our guest is probably hungry. Maybe we should go order that pizza you promised her?" Gertrud said as she collected the paperwork into a file folder and locked it into one of her desk drawers. Shirley smiled at her wife.

"Yeah. Let's go eat, love" she replied before kissing her wife's cheek and chuckling at her blush.

* * *

For what was supposed to be only a guest bathroom, the level of extravagance in the room Michelle was currently standing in looked like she had taken a wrong turn into the master bath. The walls had black and white bamboo wallpaper trimmed with black molding. Michelle could see small golden birds perched throughout the branches of the bamboo. The sink was a sleek marble stand alone piece in all black with gold fixtures. The toilet matched the same black and gold theme. Recessed lighting gave the room a warm glow and Michelle saw there was an actual bamboo plant in the corner planted in what appeared to be a small zen garden. The shower itself was etched glass with a black marble base and golden fixtures matching the ones on the sink. She could see multiple knobs and shower heads through the glass.

Michelle could not help but marvel at her surroundings. "Holy shit," Michelle said as she walked around the bathroom and let her hand lightly trace over the wallpaper trees. She could not believe this was what her hosts thought this was supposed to be a guest bathroom. "Michelle Aletta Taranto, you are not in Kansas anymore."

After absorbing her surroundings, Michelle began to strip down from her dirty clothing and head into the shower. She quickly removed every article of sticky, sweaty clothing, from her now smelly patch vest to her underwear, and placed them in a ball on the floor before stepping into the shower. Once she found just the right temperature for the water she stepped underneath and let the water descend over her. She immediately sighed in pleasure as the water began to flow over her body and through her long dark brown hair. It had been too long since she had taken a proper shower. When Michelle had the opportunity and the funds she would stay a night at a motel just to shower and sleep in a real bed instead of the sleeping bag that she carried in her rucksack. Now she was not only able to shower but shower in one of the most luxurious bathrooms she had ever had the pleasure of using. This was a situation she could definitely get used to but reminded herself that nothing had technically changed. She still had no clue what Shirley's intentions were, and she was pretty sure Gertrud didn't really trust her despite her statement of assurance that she was not considered a threat. What was she really expecting from a woman who'd put a gun to her head a few nights ago though?

She took time to shampoo her hair thoroughly and scrub the shampoo into her scalp. She grabbed a bar of what looked like completely untouched soap and took relish in scrubbing the dirt and grime from her skin. She silently stood under the water, as she slowly rinsed herself and took in the luxury of what she was experiencing. Standing under hot and clean water in an absolutely pristine shower was a sensation she hadn't experienced in a long time. It was a more than welcome moment of normality.

While she was debating on shampooing her hair a second time, she heard a knock on the door. She quickly cracked the shower door open to poke her head out. "Yeah?" she called out.

"It's Shirley," the voice said from the other side of the door. "Mind if I come in?"

"Umm. . .I guess not," Michelle replied. She watched as the door opened and Shirley stepped inside with a folded up pile of clothes and placed them upon the small table next to the sink.

"I thought you could use a change of clothes until you have a chance to wash yours. I know they're probably not your style but at least they're clean," Shirley explained before taking a seat on the closed toilet.

"Thank you. I know my old ones probably smell like a landfill at this point. That's what happens when you're bouncing around west of the Mississippi though," Michelle shrugged and reached for the shampoo again.

"You're welcome," Shirley said with a chuckle. "I'll throw the other ones in the wash for you while you get dressed." Shirley picked up Michelle's clothes and went to walk out before she stopped and looked over her shoulder at the younger witch. "By the way I ordered one plain pie and one veggie one for the three of us. Is that good with you?"

"Any hot food right now sounds great, honestly," Michelle said rinsing out the second round of shampoo. "Thanks again for letting me use your shower," she said while reaching for conditioner.

"Anytime, Michelle. Trude and I will be downstairs when you're ready." Shirley replied. "By the way, there's spare toiletries in the closet if you need anything," she offered before walking out of the bathroom.

Michelle took a few more minutes to finishing rinsing out her hair before she shut the water off and went to get changed in clean clothes. Shirley had given her a pair of jean shorts, a pair of panties, a sports bra that she was certain belonged to Gertrud, some flip flops, and a grey t-shirt with some graphics on it. Michelle chuckled at the fact that Shirley had definitely not given her one of her bras. She knew that her B cup sized breasts would never have fit in Shirley's bra, which was at least three cups sizes larger. She then turned her attention to the shirt. Michelle unfolded it and turned it around so she could see the design on it. The tee shirt bore the symbol of a pentacle made of brooms over the Liberion Flag and read in blue letters "501st Joint Fighter Wing 40th Reunion-San Antonio, Texas." Michelle smiled at the shirt. It was probably one of Shirley's more precious shirts and one that she was rather honored to wear. Plus the thought of the witches from the 501st getting back together for a reunion was kind of heartwarming.

She slipped on the clothes and walked out of the bathroom. She quickly descended the stairs to find Shirley waiting for her at the bottom. Shirley waved her off to the left of the staircase and took her down another hallway that led to modern kitchen that bordered on professional. The countertops were all a sleek and sturdy emerald granite with rich walnut cabinets underneath them. A large island with barstool seating and built in double sink sat in the center of the room. An eight burner range with double oven was positioned along the main wall beyond that with a massive stand alone refrigerator and freezer set to its right that Michelle had not seen since her days at Langley. At the edge of the kitchen near the small eat in table was a series of large bay windows through which Michelle could see a massive swimming pool and an expansive outdoor patio area. On the island countertop sat the two pizza boxes, along with three cans of unopened Coca Cola and some paper plates sat around the island countertop, with Gertrud standing on a corner leaning herself against the counter. Michelle was once again impressed. She had never been in a kitchen like this.

She walked over and opened one of boxes and took a look at the pizza inside. She took note of the well done thin crust along with what appeared to be layers of chunky tomato sauce and fresh mozzarella. Thin strips of fresh basil were sprinkled over the top of it all. She nodded her head in appreciation . "Look satisfactory to you?" Gertrud said, taking note of the way Michelle looked at the pie. Michelle realized she probably looked like an ungrateful brat with the way she was appraising the pizza.

"Sorry," she said quickly while she blushed slightly. "I come from the Pizza Belt and grew up in a heavy Romagnan Liberion neighborhood, so I can be a little picky about properly made pizza."

"The Pizza Belt?" Gertrud said with her right eyebrow raised. She couldn't believe that there were such absurd nicknames for certain parts of her adopted homeland.

"You know, like New York, New Jersey, and Philly," Michelle explained. "That's the Pizza Belt. It's where the finest Romagnan cuisine in all of Liberion comes from. Pizza, eggplant parmesan, pasta fagioli, linguini with clams, and of course lasagna," Michelle explained dreamily. "It's really the best and you only find it in the Pizza Belt," she finished. All of this had been accompanied by lots of hand gesturing that made the elder Karlsandic Witch think back to the time she spent with Francesca Lucchini during her days with the 501st Joint Fighter Wing. She figured the hand gesturing must be a thing that extended to anyone with Romagan blood.

"Well hopefully this pizza lives up to your standards, Michelle," Shirley quipped. She took a position leaning up against the counter and grabbed herself a slice before opening her can of soda. "I propose a toast." She raised up her can and looked over at Michelle with a cheeky smile. "To our new friend, Michelle Taranto. May she no longer feel the need to break into houses and find comfort amongst her new friends, the Yeagers."

"And a thank you to the Yeagers for letting me into their home," Michelle said raising her can in return.

"Here here," Gertrud said dryly. The three of them touched their soda cans together and began to eat the pizza. The two elder witches watched as Michelle took a few bites and looked up toward the ceiling in a thinking pose. "So it is up to your standards?"

Michelle chewed the pizza a bit more before swallowing and turning back to Gertrud. "Yeah it's just about there," she said with a smile. She took a napkin and wiped her face. "The sauce is a little sweet but it's about as good you'll find outside the Pizza Belt. The crust and the cheese are spot on."

"Well I'm certainly glad that it's up to your standards," Shirley said as she took a bite of her slice. Briefly the three witches ate in relative silence, switching between bites of their slices and sips of their drinks before Shirley spoke up. "So Michelle," she began. "What exactly were your plans now?"

Michelle stiffened at the sudden question and looked at Shirley as she finished chewing slowly. She swallowed and set down her slice. "Well I was gonna leave after my clothes were done. I don't want to overstay my welcome you know?" she answered while picking at a non existent hangnail.

"Well that's stupid," Shirley replied slapping her thigh. "You don't need to leave so quickly. Stay awhile! You can at least spend the night and get a good sleep in one of the guest rooms."

Michelle jumped slightly at Shirley's enthusiasm "Well, thanks," Michelle said with a smile. She certainly appreciated the gesture but wouldn't be asking for anything more than that. "I guess I'll head out tomorrow and catch a bus out of here. I think I might have overstayed my welcome in San Antonio," she finished with a wry look.

Shirley raised her eyebrow in curiosity. "Where would you go then?" she questioned.

Michelle shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know," she said. She took a sip of her soda and looked back over at Shirley. "Maybe Albuquerque if I go back West. Maybe New Orleans if I go East. Maybe Tulsa if I go North. I haven't really thought about it too much I guess. I'll go wherever I feel like. That's the fun of living on your own, you know? You never know where things are gonna take you."

Michelle noticed Shirley look over at Gertrud with a contemplative look on her face. Gertrud initially gave her a look that seemed to indicate that she had no idea what to say, but Shirley looked over at Michelle and then back at her wife. Gertrud sighed and waved her hand as if to indicate for Shirley to continue speaking. "What?" Michelle asked.

"Michelle, I gotta ask you something," Shirley spoke up. Michelle raised her eyebrow and leaned back in the barstool seat. "Why does someone like you who has an officer's pension from the Air Force need to roam around the country?"

"Hold the fuck on," Michelle snapped. Her body language shifted instantly. The relaxed attitude replaced by a defensive angry stance as if she were suddenly cornered by a foe. "How the fuck did you even know that I was in the Air Force?" she spat.

"Trude has her ways," Shirley stated bluntly. Gertrud glared at her wife sharply and gave her a 'what the hell?' look. She didn't want to reveal too much to Michelle just yet. She was hoping to give them at least somewhat of an upper hand.

"Look, we know you were in the Air Force. We know you graduated near the top of your class at the Academy, that you fought in the Gulf as the leader of a Joint Fighter Wing, and that you won a Silver Star for some actions that neither Trude or myself accomplished during our combat tours. I just want to know why you're running around the country like this," Shirley asked.

"It's none of your fucking business," Michelle snarled at Shirley. She stood up abruptly. "Look, I appreciate your kindness, but I really think I should get going when my clothes are done."

"Michelle please," Shirley said quickly realizing that this had gone South very quickly and she wasn't sure if she could convince Michelle to stay at this point. The same concerned tone that Michelle had heard the day Shirley had nearly hit her was creeping into the elder witch's voice. Michelle hated pity more than anything which compelled her to turn around and face the witch who was questioning her. "Look, Michelle, I'm sorry for coming out of left field with all of that. You don't have to talk about it now, or ever if you don't want to bring it up with Trude and I."

Michelle raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms "Apology mostly accepted," Michelle replied. "I don't need your help though, so don't give me that fake concerned bullshit I can smell all over you like stepped in it," she snapped.

Gertrud stood up from her leaned over position on the counter and raised her shoulders. "Are you just going to stand there and curse us out you little brat or are you actually going to sit down and listen to what Shirley has to say?" Gertrud asked sharply. "I really don't appreciate the way you're talking to my wife, Michelle."

Michelle was taken aback by Gertrud. She had almost forgotten the other witch was in the room since she had remained completely silent until now. Michelle wasn't in the mood to be questioned about her past by what were essentially two strangers. This whole situation was already unnerving and anxiety inducing enough to make her want to walk out of the door without even her clothes right now. But unlike the aggressive position Gertrud now maintained against the counter, Shirley remained calm and relaxed. She couldn't figure out why she hadn't already picked up her rucksack and walked out but it was probably only because she had a feeling that crazy red head something more up her sleeve. Plus, she wasn't about to prove Gertrud right and storm off like a brat. With a huff Michelle took her seat back at the counter and watched as Shirley glared over at her wife with a look that clearly said 'shut up, you're not helping' look before turning her attention back to Michelle.

"Alright Michelle, I'm gonna be straight with you. Trude and I have an offer for you," Shirley said calmly. "Do you know anything about the SARC?"

"You mean those air races involving strikers?" Michelle questioned taken aback by the strange topic change. "Well, yeah. Why?"

Getrud sighed and looked up the ceiling. "Karlsland, give me strength," she muttered to herself. She still had a hard time believing she was actually going to let Shirley go through with this. Shirley glared at her before continuing.

"Trude and I have been thinking for awhile now…" Shirley began.

"Ahem," Trude interrupted, clearing her throat. "You, not me, Hase," she reminded her wife.

Shirley rolled her eyes as Michelle looked back and forth between the two elder witches. "As I was saying," Shirley began again. "I for awhile now have wanted to get involved in the Striker Championship. Trouble is my days of flying a striker are way behind me, but what I do have is a large amount of disposable income to fund a team. I also have the means and connections to build a racing striker and have a pit crew. The only thing missing from the equation is a witch. A talented witch. And that is where you come in, Michelle. I want you to be my witch."

Michelle looked at Shirley with wide eyes and felt her jaw drop open. Instead of gasping like Shirley expected her to, Michelle promptly slammed her fist on the countertop and began to laugh boisterously. She began to laugh so hard that she nearly fell out of the barstool she was leaning on, having to hold herself against the countertop as she laughed so hard her eyes began to water. Shirley and Gertrud both looked at each other confused. This was not the reaction either of them were expecting.

"Oh my gosh," Michelle said through the bursts of laughter. She slowly wound down from her outburst of laughter and breathed deeply. "You really are fucking crazy, aren't you? You know, I wasn't sure at first when you bailed me out but now I'm positive!" She wiped tears from her eyes and breathed deeply again. "A racing witch? You can't be serious. Like, I'm sorry, but are you out of your fucking mind?" Michelle questioned. "What in the world makes you think I'm qualified to race striker units? Fuck I haven't flown a striker unit since I was nineteen. Like what kind of thought process do you possibly have that could make you think that's something I'm capable of doing?"

"I'm completely serious, Michelle," Shirley replied curtly. The tone in Shirley's voice caught Michelle's attention. Shirley really wasn't joking around. It reminded her of one of her old drill sergeants from the Air Force Academy. This elder witch looked at her pointedly with all traces of the usual kindness gone from her expression. "You flew an F-15 Eagle in combat against the neuroi and you led a joint fighter wing into battle time and time again. I know your magic is still capable because of the information Trude was able to acquire. You're more qualified than anyone who I've ever considered doing this with, Michelle. Heck you're probably more qualified than half the witches on the SARC grid now. You're as good of a witch as I'm ever going to find. And I can't do this without someone like you."

Michelle tilted her head thoughtfully and listened closely. Shirley's statements were all true technically, although Michelle questioned the last one about how she might be overqualified to race striker units in the World Championship. She knew her record in combat was enviable, but she was still unsure that she wanted to go through with this. Shirley's offer was not exactly something to be taken lightly and was coming completely out of nowhere as far as she was concerned. But. . .the tables weren't turned in a manner where Michelle felt that she needed Shirley and Gertrud. She didn't have to depend on them and she knew she could always duck and run any time she wanted. They would never miss her and Shirley would probably just go looking for another witch crazy enough to agree. But for now it seemed Shirley was genuinely making the case that she needed her, and that sparked Michelle's curiosity.

"Well. . .what's in it for me?" Michelle asked crossing her arms. If she was gonna test Shirley's sincerity then she wanted to see what her bargaining chips were. Gertrud looked at Michelle and arched an eyebrow and over to her wife. Michelle looked over at Shirley with a steely gaze that only an ace witch could have.

Shirley looked at Michelle with equally intense gaze but with a smirk on her face. "You keep all the prize money from the races," she stated bluntly. Michelle raised her eyebrows and sat up in her seat. Shirley could see she'd gotten Michelle to bite finally. That was definitely an attention getter, but maybe not enough to convince her. Now it was time to reel her in, "And you get to live in Trude and I's house."

"Excuse me?" Gertrud exclaimed, completely caught off guard by the last statement. "Don't I get any mrgph…" Shirley elbowed Gertrud and made her wife hold her side. Gertrud looked up with Shirley with daggers coming from her eyes. Michelle felt herself taken aback by the declaration.

"So you're saying if I race in the SARC," Michelle said slowly with her brow arched, emphasizing her uncertainty. "I get to keep all the money...and I get to live here with you two?"

"That's right," Shirley said with a smile. Gertrud pursed her lips and shook her head curtly but knew she had no chance of getting through to her wife by this point. She was absolutely dead set on doing this. This was so typical.

"Rent free?" Michelle questioned. She wanted to make sure there weren't any hidden clauses in the fine print. This all seemed too good to be true. There had to be something.

"The only catch is that Trude gets to train you physically," Shirley said while wrapping her arm around her wife's shoulder. "And you'll follow her training schedule. Other than you can stay in this house rent free for as long as you're racing for me."

Well there was the catch Michelle thought herself. Letting the gun slinger put her through her paces. Shirley had promised her safety though. Michelle stared at her feet. She was still really reluctant to agree. For one thing, this was coming out of nowhere. Despite the dirt that Shirley and Gertrud had apparently dug up on her career, she was still deeply uncertain why Shirley wanted to do this. The other issue was her conditioning. Though she wasn't familiar with all the ins and outs of the SARC, she knew that flying a striker unit required strength that she wasn't sure she still had. Sure, Gertrud could train her up, but would she have enough strength magically to do what Shirley was asking of her? She hadn't flown a striker unit in years, and had never flown a reciprocating striker. Everything about this felt totally out of her league. But as she thought about it more she wondered what exactly she had going for herself that would be better than what Shirley was offering. What would she rather be doing than this? Roaming around the United States and committing petty crimes just to get by? Was that really better than living in this kind of luxury for at least a few months? If it really was a bust she felt Shirley would probably cut her loose, and at that point she wouldn't be all that opposed to leaving.

Michelle looked up at Shirley and furrowed her brow. "I'm in," she said finally She put her out for Shirley to shake it. "You want a racing witch? You got yourself a racing witch."

Like an excited school girl Shirley let out a joyous squeal and took Michelle's hands with both of her own hands. "Oh my gosh! Yes yes yes!" Shirley shouted excitedly. She sprinted around the counter and wrapped Michelle up in a tight embrace. "Thank you! Thank you so much! I promise you won't regret this!" Shirley laughed in excitement and accidentally shoved the younger witch's face into her bust as she hugged her tighter. Michelle blushed deeply and struggled futilely to escape Shirley's tight embrace. Gertrud could only help but smile lightly and drum her fingers on the countertop as she watched the scene unfold. She loved seeing her wife happy but she worried her happiness would only be short lived. She could only ponder where this journey would take all of them.


	5. No Pain, No Gain

The next day, after Michelle had gotten herself settled a little and had gotten some decent sleep, Shirley told her to get ready to go out shopping. Michelle's own stash of clothes were made of jeans and work pants along with hooded sweatshirts, a patch vest, and a few ragged t shirts along with some heavy steel toed boots. Those were clothes hardly fit for the intense training sessions that were surely to come once Gertrud started working with her, so Shirley resolved to fix this before the two got started.

"Trude is gonna put you through your paces and you're gonna need some clothes that can stand up to her training sessions," Shirley explained

After a brief breakfast the three witches piled into Gertrud's Ford F-150 pickup truck and started on their way out of Monte Vista. Michelle sat in the back of the truck's crew cab and listened to Shirley and Gertrud argue over the merits of the pickup truck as their only reasonably practical vehicle, as well as Gertrud's driving acumen in relation to Shirley's speed happy habits behind the wheel.

"I think we should buy another car," Shirley proposed as she held her hand out the window. "This hunk of steel can't be the only possible way we get around."

"My truck is a perfectly acceptable means of transportation," Gertrud replied sternly. "It's roomy inside, has a big enough bed for all my tactical gear, and is plenty capable off road. Not everything has to be fast and flashy."

"It also guzzles gas, drives like a brick on wheels, and could roll over at any minute," Shirley remarked. "That's why I think we should buy a station wagon."

"We have four cars already!" Gertrud shot back. "It's not my fault that all of them are pathetically impractical and are only fit for going fast. Maybe you should sell that stupid Ferrari that can't do anything but go in a straight line."

Shirley chuckled at her wife's forceful insistence. "Why don't we ask our racing witch's opinion?" Gertrud took her turn to sigh as they drove along. "Michelle, should we buy a station wagon or just stick with Trude's pickup truck?"

Michelle shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. She couldn't believe Shirley was really asking her if she thought they needed another car. She never would imagine having the kind of money to just throw around on a car the way that Shirley apparently could. "I mean I'm fine back here but I guess I understand why you want one," she said non committedly.

"Good work taking the middle road with that one, Michelle," Gertrud remarked with a smirk. She put her right hand on Shirley's shoulder as she continued to steer the truck with her left. "The last thing we need is another impulsively bought automobile sitting in our driveway."

Shirley crossed her arms and sagged her shoulders. A pouting expression spread across her face that Michelle could see in the rearview mirror. "All I wanted was a station wagon," Shirley grumbled like a petulant child.

Gertrud let out an exasperated groan and gripped the steering wheel of the truck tightly. This was another thing she could hardly believe she was allowing her wife to go through with. "You want to buy a station wagon so bad? We can stop at a dealership on the way back. Sound good?"

Shirley immediately smiled and looked at her wife excitedly. "Can it be one from Fuso?"

"Is there a good reason why it has to be from Fuso?" Gertrud said with a mix of curiosity and exasperation at Shirley's seemingly irrational demands.

"Because we've never owned a car from Fuso before," Shirley said excitedly. "All we've owned are cars from Liberion, Romagna, and Karlsland. I think it'd be fun to own a station wagon from Fuso!"

"Fine!" Gertrud shot back irritatedly, slapping the steering wheel of the F-150 in anger. "You want a station wagon from Fuso so bad?! We'll find you a station wagon from Fuso! Are you happy now, Hase?"

"Very," Shirley said with a smile. "Thank you, Love." She reached over and kissed her wife on the cheek. Gertrud felt her anger melt away and replaced by a mildly swooned expression that was accompanied by yet another blush. Shirley couldn't help but giggle before she sat back in her seat.

Michelle chuckled at her rescuer's apparent demeanor. Though she had seen the serious side to Shirley she noticed that the elder witch possessed a youthful exuberance and almost childlike demeanor. She was especially surprised to see she still had it given both her advanced age and that she was married to someone as strict and formal as Gertrud Barkhorn. Michelle figured that time and marriage would have hardened such an attitude, and she was surprised it apparently hadn't hardened in the least.

After riding for another few more minutes in silence the three witches arrived at the North Star Mall in uptown San Antonio. The shopping center was a posh upscale facility, one that had been built in the last ten years as a facility where consumers could spend their hard earned wages on a multitude of different goods. The two older witches resolved that a good place to stop would be the local Adidas store, as it would have all the necessary clothes that would be required for training with Gertrud. Michelle took time to look around at the athletic wares that were available to her in the store. They were made of the newest high quality materials and had price tags that under typical circumstances would be way out of her price range. Even with access to her officer's pension the athletic wear was typically items that would be considered luxury items under her budget, not that she would ever consider buying them in the first place.

While Michelle took time to look around at all the options, in particular the large selection of running shoes Gertrud went up to the counter to talk with a sales representative about what exactly they needed. Shirley immediately went over to one of the clothing racks and began to pick through different shirts for Michelle to wear. She turned to Michelle over her shoulder. "What size are you, Michelle?"

"Women's medium," Michelle replied absentmindedly as she continued to look at the sneakers. Shirley then went back to rummaging through the shirts. Gertrud meanwhile came over with a sales person who asked Michelle to sit down and measured her feet before going over and picking out a pair of running shoes.

"Do I really need all this stuff?" Michelle asked as the salesperson went to get a pair of running shoes. "I'm used to running in my boots and a combat uniform after being at the Academy for a few years. It's really no big deal."

"With what Trude is going to put you through it will be a big deal," Shirley called back from the shirt rack. "Training with her in Texas isn't anything like training in Colorado Springs at the Air Force Academy."

Michelle raised her eyebrow and looked over at Gertrud, who was standing with her right hand on her hips while the salesperson presented her with a running shoe. She thought about asking the elder witch what exactly she was in for, but then she remember how she refused to show Gertrud any weakness the previous day back in her study and how she refused to walk away when Gertrud challenged her to do so. She figured it was best to keep her mouth shut.

Michelle let the salesperson slip a pair of sneakers onto her feet and she tied them tightly. She stood up and took a few paces up and down the shoe section. The shoes needed to be worn in a bit but overall she felt comfortable in them and nodded to Gertrud in a signal to let her know that was the case.

"I think we found her a pair of shoes, Hase," Gertrud called out to her wife. "Have you found some appropriate attire?"

"Just a second, Trude," Shirley replied. The two waited a few minutes as Shirley continued to rummage through the clothing racks. The two witches waited for a moment before the buxom redhead crossed through the store with a multitude of clothing pieces ranging from tank tops and t-shirts to workout shorts and socks. Michelle raised her eyebrow at the sheer amount of clothing that Shirley had picked up off the rack. She couldn't believe that Shirley was actually being this extravagant with shopping for clothes that were meant to get dirty and sweaty.

"So, Michelle," Shirley began as she struggled to pull a shirt and a pair of shorts from her overloaded arms. She pulled out a combination and presented it to Michelle. "What do you think? Neon teal and green?"

Michelle looked down at the clothing and only could mutter "Uh…" before Shirley took the clothing and presented her with a new combination to look at; a tank top that was baby blue with a set of pink running shorts. She couldn't even think about the first one.

"Don't like that one?" Shirley questioned. She went to get another combination of a top and shorts. "No problem, we can ditch the blue on pink. But how about the…"

"Hase!" Gertrud shouted. Michelle and the salesperson both raised their eyebrows and looked over at Gertrud. Shirley looked up at her wife curiously. "Function over form please!"

"Function over form?" Shirley retorted. She laughed smugly as if she knew what was best. "I want my racing witch to at least look good some of the time!"

"The color of her training outfit is superfluous at best," Gertrud shot back. "She's training to race a striker unit, not model for a magazine!"

Michelle's eyes ping ponged back and forth as the two elder witches traded barbs with one another. She could hardly believe Shirley and Gertrud were arguing over something so seemingly insignificant. She herself had little preference for what kind of clothing she was wearing to exercise in. She decided to just watch the hilarity of two lovers quarreling over workout clothing right in front of her face. This was entertainment she could whole heartedly get behind.

Finally the two women came to a compromise. Shirley would let Michelle go into a fitting room and try out a combination of three different shorts and tops along with the sneakers she had selected before they left. Michelle ultimately chose three combinations that Shirley and Gertrud would find most appealing; a blue top with red shorts, a silver tank top with black shorts, and a green top with red and white shorts that Michelle liked because it matched the Romagnan flag. After earning the two elder witches approval Shirley went and paid for the items with her credit card.

"I suppose if we don't have anywhere else to go," Gertrud stated plainly, "We can just go home then."

"Ahem," Shirley said while clearing her throat. "We have one more place to go," she reminded Gertrud with a wry devilish smile. Gertrud remembered her words and immediately sighed at the ceiling as she remembered she'd told Shirley earlier. Her wife never going to let her forget her agreeing to her demand. For once Michelle took the opportunity to snicker at the elder Karlslandic witch. It was funny to see her get into messes she couldn't talk herself out of.

* * *

In the earliest hours of the morning, before the sun began to crest over the horizon and bathe San Antonio, a twenty one year old witch remained nestled in her new bed. She was curled up tightly, holding onto a pillow and sleeping soundly as she took the time to take in the comfort of the bed she was laying in along with the down comforter that covered her body. She breathed softly and kept herself curled in her position even as the door to her bedroom was opened and the sound of feet tapped across the floor of the bedroom and over to the bed.

"Wake up, Michelle," Gertrud ordered. The Romagnan Liberion witch didn't move an inch, remaining in her fetal position while holding the pillow. "Michelle, wake up. It's time to train."

This time Michelle stirred and held the pillow tighter. "Can't we train tomorrow?" she questioned through a yawn. She then fell back asleep while hugging the pillow tightly.

Gertrud raised an eyebrow and immediately felt her memory jostled to an earlier time in her life, when a certain blonde witch used to give her similar responses to requests such as this. She took a deep breath before she spoke up. "Michelle, we have to start today," Gertrud tried to explain diplomatically. "Shirley said that you would follow my training schedule and her and I agreed that you would start training today. So wake up, please."

"Well. . . fuck that old hag," Michelle grumbled groggily. "I'm getting sleep...I need sleep…" Michelle then yawned and went back to curling the pillow with her arms.

It was at that moment that Gertrud decided to give up on diplomacy and resort to the thing Karlsland had trained her to do best; find a point of weakness, strike it hard, fast, and with precision. Quickly she reached for pillow that Michelle had her arms wrapped around and tugged it harshly. Not realizing how much strength she had put into yanking the pillow, Gertrud watched as Michelle held onto the pillow so long that she began to dangle over the edge of the bed. When she realized what she had done she gave one more tug and ripped the pillow out of Michelle's hands. Only then did the twenty one year old witch open her eyes and wake up. Briefly she was face to face with the elder witch before her, but then Michelle realized she was hanging precariously off the edge of the bed she was resting on. Helplessly she flailed her arms about as if to try to hover and prevent herself from falling, but it was to no avail. With a loud thud she crashed upon the bedroom floor, falling upside down and barely able to avoid hitting her head with a well timed roll of her body.

"Ow," she muttered as she rubbed her side. "That hurt." Michelle immediately felt herself pulled up by Gertrud and the two witches met at eye level. She noticed the elder witch was wearing her own set of Adidas running gear; a black top with silver running shorts along with white ankle socks covered by grey running shoes. The outfit made it very apparent how even in her advanced age Gertrud was more fit than many people twenty years younger than her.

"Don't ever call my wife an old hag," Gertrud ordered firmly. "Got it?" Michelle nodded quickly until Gertrud released her and she fell back upon the floor. "Your training starts today. You have exactly five minutes to get dressed and meet me in the kitchen."

"Five minutes?" Michelle said confused. She yawned and then raised her arms again. "Why only five minutes?"

"Don't question it!" Gertrud shot back. She reached down and pressed some buttons on her digital watch before turning back to Michelle. "Five minutes, starting now. If you are not down in the kitchen in five minutes ready to go our run today will be doubled in length. Do you understand?"

At the threat of her workout being doubled for no reason other than being late Michelle quickly sprang up and stood tall. "Yes, Ma'am!" she responded back quickly.

Gertrud nodded at her and walked out of the guest bedroom. Michelle then quickly ran over to her bag of workout clothes and threw on her red top with blue shorts along with her socks and running shoes. All of this took about two minutes. With that she carefully made her way down the hallway, careful not to wake Shirley up before sprinting down the stairs and heading to the kitchen. There Gertrud was waiting with a water bottle in one hand and a banana in the other. MIchelle quickly took her place next the elder witch, who passed her a banana and water bottle of her own. Michelle looked at the banana with some disgust. She had never liked bananas, being unable to wrap her head around the spongy texture of the yellow fruit and never quite being able to master the art of peeling one. She thought for a moment about refusing the food, but she could see Gertrud catch her reaction and quickly proceed to nip that idea in the bud.

"Eat up and drink," Gertrud ordered. "You'll need some calories for the kind of run we're going on."

Michelle undid the banana peel and quickly began to eat the banana. "So," she said with her mouth full. "Where are we going today?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Gertrud ordered. "Don't you have any decency?" She let out a low groan and mumbled to herself "You're just like Frau."

"Who's Frau?" Michelle questioned. Gertrud raised her head, caught off guard by the fact that Michelle had heard her. Her perceptiveness was definitely something she did not anticipate. Michelle was more like Erica Hartmann in more ways than one. She hoped against all hope that Michelle wouldn't be like Karlsland's Finest when it came to her physical training.

The two witches left the kitchen after Michelle reluctantly ate her banana and walked out near one of the pointer statues at the front of Shirley and Gertrud's driveway. Michelle watched as Gertrud reached down to touch her toes and bend over in various positions. Michelle raised her eyebrow at the older witch's actions.

"You should stretch before we get going," Gertrud suggested plainly. She continued to stretch her legs and even her shoulders. "You'll get cramps if you don't. And I'm not stopping for you."

"I haven't stretched since I was at the Academy," Michelle scoffed, crossing her arms and cocking her hip. "We used to drill back in the day, wouldn't ever have a chance to stretch, and I never got cramps. So I don't know what you're talking about," she finished with a smug tone.

Gertrud gnashed her teeth and clenched her fist as she stretched on the pavement. Sass was not something she had an easy time putting up with going back to her military days. It was one of the reasons that her and Shirley butted heads during their years in the 501st. The buxom Liberion witch always seemed to have a witty, stinging comeback to her Karlsandlic disciplinary overtures no matter if it revolved around sharing food and politeness at the mess hall table to testing striker units in nothing but underwear. Gertrud was mostly irked by it because she often didn't have equally sassy and witty comebacks herself due to her rigid and formalized upbringing, a type of upbringing that was once commonplace in a country known for child rearing practices that stood in stark contrast to the free loving and wholly nurturing rearing Shirley was given as a child. Nowadays Gertrud had grown accustomed to Shirley giving her sassy responses, a trait that came after being married to Shirley for well over thirty years. In some ways she actually welcomed it in her advanced age. Michelle however was not Shirley, so Gertrud had a very limited tolerance for her sass.

She finished stretching and turned to the younger witch, who was leaning up against one of the pointer statues that guarded the front driveway. "Are you ready to get started?"

"Yeah yeah," Michelle said. She raised her arms over her head and made a few quick stretches that were not nearly as thorough as the ones Gertrud made for herself. "Lead the way, oh great Soldier of Karlsland."

Gertrud let out an irritated growl and turned toward the pavement leading to the end of the street. "Try to keep up, Michelle." With that Gertrud took off in a graceful stride down the street, Michelle quickly following her as the two of them made their way down the street and headed on the route that Gertrud had chosen for their run. She had to slow down at first so the elder witch could lead the way.

"Piece of cake," Michelle said to herself. "This old witch has nothing on me."

Michelle had no issue keeping up with Gertrud at first. Two years of travelling by foot from place to place in the mountainous western United States of Liberion with her rucksack had toned her leg muscles and kept her strong below the waist. Running without her rucksack on her back and without a jacket on actually made Michelle a bit faster than Gertrud at first, forcing her to slow down so she could follow her. "You haven't seen anything yet," Gertrud huffed as they kept running. Michelle furrowed her brow and picked up the pace, staying hot on Gertrud's heals as the two continued running down the road and making turn after turn out of Monte Vista and into other neighborhoods of San Antonio. Michelle wondered why she was so worried about running with Gertrud in the first place. The sixty seven year old witch did not seem to present any real challenge. This was going to be easy.

For the first mile or so it seemed that way, especially given the flat terrain that San Antonio presented itself with. But as the morning grew older and the sun shined higher, Michelle began to notice something. Slowly but surely Gertrud began to pull ahead of her, overtaking Michelle for good at about one and a half miles into their run. Michelle tried to sprint to keep up but found herself unable to in the increasingly hot Texas air. Sweat began to bead up upon her forehead and she could feel her calf muscles begin to tighten as they continued on with each running step forward. Michelle began to pant heavily and felt herself lag further and further behind Gertrud, the elder witch making her lead increasingly apparent as they continued to move along down the road. The sun rose higher and higher in the sky, bathing the suburbs in a deep orange glow that radiated immense heat upon the ground. Michelle began to feel as if she was running on top of a skillet, and could feel her leg muscles tighten up more as they kept running.

Finally she could not take it anymore and stopped, holding her hands on her knees and calling out to Gertrud. The elder witch stopped and turned around at Michelle, still jogging in place to prevent her heart rate from coming down and to keep her pace sharp. "Holy shit," Michelle gasped. She continued to pant and hyperventilate as she stood with her knees upon her hands. "Holy shit."

"What's this?" Gertrud quipped. "Are you giving up already?" She jogged over to the young witch, who continued to pant on the street. "How are you ever supposed to race a striker unit if you can't even keep up with me?" Michelle looked up at Gertrud from her knees with wide eyes at the elder witch, who was still jogging in place without any effort whatsoever.

"We have a long way to go," Gertrud pointed out to Michelle. She began to run off again, and Michelle picked herself up and began to jog far behind the elder witch.

* * *

Shirley made careful movements with her hand as the skillet rested atop the burner. She then reached with a spatula into the hot pan and moved the over easy eggs she was making around to prevent them from sticking. She kept up the practice of moving the skillet and keeping the eggs off for a few more minutes while she looked down at the oven. The bacon she had placed upon a baking sheet in the oven appeared to be finished. Shutting off the burner and reaching down, she grabbed the bacon and set it onto the counter before grabbing some plates. She scooped the eggs out of the skillet and onto the plates before placing a few slices of bacon and some toast she had made upon the plates. Shirley then set them upon the table and poured glasses of orange juice for herself, her wife, and their guest. As soon as she finished pouring the last glass she heard the door connecting the garage to the mansion's muck room open up. She glanced over as Gertrud and Michelle walked in, their bodies both shining from sweat. But while Gertrud remained upright Michelle was hunched over in agony. Shirley got up from her seat and made her way over to the younger witch.

"Are you okay?" Shirley asked. She went up and put her hand on Michelle's back. The younger witch continued to pant heavily. Shirley looked on wide eyed at the whole scene and then turned over to Gertrud with a look on her face that spoke volumes. "What happened out there?"

"We went for an eight mile run," Gertrud said. "Your racing witch couldn't handle it"

Shirley raised her eyebrow at Gertrud. "What do you mean?" she questioned.

"She's out of shape, Hase," Gertrud replied back sternly, staring Michelle down with an intimidating glare. Michelle continued to pant heavily and remain leaned over on her knees. Gertrud walked away and headed toward the table. "It's clear to me that all those years of training at the Air Force Academy haven't had a lasting impact as far as her physical fitness goes."

"Screw you!" Michelle spat at Gertrud. She continued to pant heavily before getting up from her doubled over position. "It's been years since I last did a run like that! What the fuck did you expect?"

"I expected you to be more fit," Gertrud stated. She sat down and went to cut into her egg. "Now I have to completely rethink how exactly we're going to get you into even a semblance of adequate shape to race a striker unit."

Michelle went to speak something more venomous to Gertrud but Shirley held up her hand in front of Michelle and looked over at both of them. "Hey, come on," Shirley said carefully to Michelle. She put her hand on the younger witch's shoulder. "It was just the first day of training. It's a lot to get used to. Things will get better as you both settle into a routine."

"I certainly hope so," Gertrud said while eating some of her bacon. She looked up at Michelle. "You'll need to do a lot more work if you plan on getting stronger."

Shirley furrowed her brow and stared down Gertrud to get the elder witch to keep her mouth shut. She turned back to Michelle and suggested that she take her place at the table and get something to eat. Michelle trudged over to the table and took a seat. She reached over and chugged her orange juice down before cutting into her eggs and bacon. Shirley took her seat at the table and began to eat her own meal while turning to Gertrud. "So what exactly does she have to improve?" Shirley asked.

"Everything," Gertrud said as she looked over at Michelle. "Cardiovascular strength, lateral agility, muscle strength, everything has to be improved." She turned back to her wife. "If it wasn't for what her dossier says about her magic I wouldn't allow her to fly a striker unit."

"That much work, huh?" Shirley said tilting her head in thought. She looked back over to Michelle, who was scarfing down her eggs. "Can it be done?"

Gertrud took a sip of her orange juice and set it down. "It can be," she said with a shrug. "But she needs to be willing to put the work in."

"And do you plan on putting the work in?" Shirley said as she began to eat her own eggs. Gertrud finished chewing on a slice of bacon before looking back over at her wife.

"Of course," Gertrud stated. She took another bite of her eggs and watched Michelle continue to eat a voracious pace before finally cleaning her plate of food and sitting back in her chair. Gertrud looked at her for a moment before standing back up. "Are you ready for more?"

Michelle furrowed her eyebrows and stood up to face the older witch. "Ready for whatever you got, you old bat," Michelle shot back at Gertrud. Gertrud scowled at the younger witch while Shirley watched the two of them banter back and forth. She could feel the intensity coming off of both of them as they stood at the table bickering. She shook her head and sighed. This was going to be a long couple months.


	6. Pulling Harder

A month into her training regimen with Gertrud, Michelle had finally begun to gain back some of her former strength. The intensive workouts no longer left her nearly dying in Shirley's kitchen every morning. Though she was still far from being close to the shape she needed to be to race a striker unit, she felt proud to have restored her some semblance of the endurance she'd once had. Barkhorn's increasingly difficult workouts no longer scared her anymore. She knew Gertrud saw her progress and had noted it carefully because her workouts had accelerated in difficulty two fold over the last week.

During one of their training sessions Gertrud had made Michelle do push ups with a medicine ball. Michelle would have to balance the ball under one hand while doing a pushup, alternating sides between sets and doing the pushups in sets of fifteen. After six of such sets Gertrud would give Michelle a break, which actually meant jumping into the expansive pool Shirley and the elder Karlslandic witch maintained on their estate and doing laps. It was during this interlude between training sessions that Shirley walked into the backyard and paid a visit during the training.

"Trude," she said lovingly as she walked over to her wife. Gertrud looked up and was caught off guard as Shirley embraced her and kissed her on the lips. Surprised, Gertrud wanted to pull away since she herself was very sweaty and wearing workout attire just like Michelle. But Shirley held her tight and she melted into the kiss. Michelle saw the scene unfold from the pool while swimming towards their end and made some gagging noises.

"Why don't you two get a room or something?" Michelle remarked from the pool. "You've got seven of them to choose from." Shirley ceased kissing her wife and looked over at Michelle with a smirk, while Gertrud scowled at her for breaking up their moment of passion with her sassy remark.

"You're funny," Gertrud snuiffed at the young witch. "Should I make you do T push ups with twenty pound dumbbells instead of a fifteen pound ones?" she threatened.

Michelle rolled her eyes and kicked her feet in the water. "Bring it on, Old Bat," she shot back before pushing away to do another lap. Gertrud gnashed her teeth and clenched her fists. Michelle's sass was still something she had a hard time putting up with. It didn't help that the younger witch was somewhat spurred on by Shirley, who in this moment elected to laugh at her wife instead of backing her up.

"You two better not tear each other apart before the racing begins," Shirley quipped. "There's a long road ahead for all of us."

"I'm not backing down," Michelle remarked as she moved through the water. The lack of gravity felt soothing to her worn out legs, as did the sensation of bathing in the cool water of the pool. "The Great Soldier of Karlsland hasn't thrown anything at me that I can't handle."

"You just wait," Gertrud snapped. "I'm only getting started, Brat."

Shirley sighed at the banter going back between the two witches. They certainly had become quite adversarial toward each other and weren't afraid to push each other's buttons. She hoped that neither would push the other too far, but in some ways she welcomed the fact that they were so competitive with one another. It bode well for Michelle once she began to actually race.

She turned toward her wife. "Trude, you have a call waiting for you," she said with a smile. "Why don't you go take that and I'll look after my racing witch for a bit."

Gertrud raised her eyebrow wondering who could possibly be calling her but decided to go answer the phone anyway. When her wife was inside Shirley turned to Michelle and waved her over so she could bend over the edge of the pool to meet the younger witch face to face. "So is the training going well for you?" she asked tilting her head

Michelle shrugged her shoulders and smiled a crooked smile. "Yeah I suppose so," she remarked. "I definitely feel like I'm getting stronger." She looked over Shirley's shoulder at Gertrud, who was in the kitchen talking on the phone. "She's really riding my ass, that's for sure."

"Trude wouldn't do it any other way," Shirley remarked with a smirk.

Michelle rolled her eyes again. "Of course," she thought. The Great Soldier of Karlsland was obviously just as intense as she was back in her days with the 501st. It only made sense that she wouldn't loosen her reigns on Michelle and was pushing her limits constantly. It was tiresome, but by now she was getting used to it and knew there was a purpose to everything. There was an endgame to all of the work that she was doing now with Gertrud, and she had a feeling it would pay off well in the end.

"Well, I'm here to tell you that you'll be getting a few days of reprieve from physical training," Shirley stated. "We're gonna make a trip up north."

Michelle raised her eyebrows and leaned up against the edge of the pool. "Where up north?" she said curiously. She wanted to know what the older witch had up her sleeve this time around

"New Jersey," Shirley replied back with a bright smile from her crouched position. "Your home state!"

Michelle felt a weight begin to build up in her chest and a knot build up in her throat. She had not been to New Jersey in years, not since she was given a brief time to visit her family before she went off to the Gulf to fight the neuroi. Since then she had mostly focused on bouncing around the western United States like a pioneer, staying as far away from the cities and bustle of the east coast as she possibly could until she felt like she could get her head straight. Sure she would travel to cities, but they would be nothing like the suburbs and metropolises that dotted the east coast, especially in her home state of New Jersey. Not only that, she was uncertain about going to a place where she could potentially run into someone she knew from her past, which was not something she was sure she was ready to handle. She was deeply curious as to why she would need to head back to New Jersey.

"What the hell is in New Jersey for the two of us?" Michelle bristled from her position against the edge of the pool.

"The woman who's going to build us a racing striker, that's what," Shirley said matter-of-factly with a straight face. "It's who Trude is talking to right now actually, just a kind of catching up call if you know what I mean."

Michelle nodded her head slowly and looked at back at Shirley. She felt more relaxed knowing this was all part of the plan and even if she wasn't thrilled with it she had to go along for the ride.

"So what are we going to do up there with her?"

"We need to run some tests to ensure that you can stand up to the rigors of racing a striker unit," Shirley explained. Michelle scoffed lightly. "I know that your magic is still capable based off of your dossier, but I need to see that you can utilize it. Racing a purpose built reciprocating striker isn't anything like flying the jets that you flew in the Air Force."

"It can't be that different," Michelle remarked waving a dismissive hand. She was certain the elder witch was exaggerating. "Sure, I've never flown reciprocators before but what's the worst it could be like?"

"She'll be explaining all that to you over the next few days," Shirley stated. "But for now I'm calling it quits for you and Trude. You should go pack up your rucksack. We're leaving tomorrow morning."

Michelle nodded back at Shirley climbed over the side of the pool. She dried herself off with a towel and walked past the elder witch before heading off past Gertrud and up to her room. She was really going on a trip back to her home state, and as anxiety inducing as it was she found she was beginning to look forward to it. Testing out her magic at least had the potential of making this trip interesting.

* * *

The next morning Shirley woke Michelle around six o'clock and had her get dressed. Springing up from her bed, Michelle threw on a shirt and jeans along with her patch vest before running down the stairs and meeting Shirley and Gertrud in the main foyer. The three of them proceeded outside only to be greeted by Shirley's newest automobile purchase, a brand new Honda Accord station wagon. It was the wagon from Fuso that Shirley craved, and she was happy now that Gertrud and her would never have to go around driving the F-150 unless it was absolutely necessary.

Michelle loaded her bag into the hatch of the wagon while Gertrud and Shirley held each other in an embrace. "Remember to call me when you land, Hase," Gertrud ordered sternly. "I want to keep tabs on your schedule."

Shirley sighed and chuckled playfully at her wife. "Understood, Mrs. Yeager," she said lovingly. She looked her wife in the eyes and brushed one of her bangs to the side. "Don't get too bored without me, okay?"

"I'll do my best," Gertrud said. A blush became strewn across her face. For once Gertrud made the first move, leaning in to kiss her wife passionately while holding her tightly in an embrace. The kiss lasted a few moments before Gertrud leaned away. "Let me know how it goes with our friend, Hase. I hope you'll be satisfied with the results."

"Me too," Shirley said. She caressed her wife's face and went to kiss her again until she heard the blaring sound of a car horn from behind them. The two women looked back at the Accord to see Michelle looking at them with an exasperated look on her face.

"Are we gonna get outta here or are you two gonna make out in your driveway all day?" Michelle called out in an exasperated tone. The show of intimacy had quickly become too much for her to stomach.

Shirley chuckled at the younger witch's insistence and broke her embrace with her wife. "I'll see you in a few days, Trude," she said as she walked toward the station wagon. Gertrud stood at the foot of their front steps and waved as the two witches drove off.

When they were far enough away Michelle turned to Shirley. "So," Michelle began. "What airline are we flying on?"

"Airline?" Shirley scoffed. She shook her head and smirked. "Michelle, not to sound arrogant, but my days of flying airlines have long since passed."

Michelle raised an eyebrow at Shirley's statement. "So what are we gonna do? Drive there or something?" Shirley again chuckled and shook her head. Michelle shrugged her shoulders and watched as Shirley drove the Honda down the highway and past all the exits for San Antonio's large international airport. Michelle looked at each one of the signs passing by wide eyed and then looked back at Shirley. She seriously began to wonder about what the elder witch had up her sleeve. Driving past the airport only gave her one idea of what she thought Shirley had planned. 'We're really gonna drive all the fucking way to New Jersey' Michelle thought to herself. She began to wonder if her new boss was truly as clever as she thought she was.

Those thoughts began to disappear when Shirley made a few turns and they ended up in a grassy area just south of the San Antonio metro area. Shirley drove down a paved road and eventually pulled the car past a sign that said "Stinson Airport". Michelle could see a small airport come into view on the outskirts of the city. The airport had a medium sized runway and a few buildings arranged neatly next to the hangars. When the runway came closer into view Michelle could see a few small jet aircraft on the taxiway, including one getting fueled and looked over by the pilots and ground crew. Michelle then understood what exactly was going on, and how they would get to New Jersey.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me we're taking a private jet?" Michelle asked in mild awe. She had never considered this would be their mode of transportation, but she realized she should have known better given Shirley's lifestyle.

Shirley chuckled at Michelle's statement and gave her a smirk. "That would've ruined the surprise," the elder witch stated humorously. Michelle rolled her eyes at the elder witch. She really should have known better from Shirley at this point. The buxom redhead really didn't leave any stones unturned even when it came to social situations.

Shirley turned onto a driveway that ended up leading to the fixed base at Stinson Airport before parking their car. Michelle went around back to grab her rucksack while Shirley grabbed her own rolling suitcase. The two witches then walked inside and checked in at the front desk. Michelle took time to grab an apple from a basket before Shirley led Michelle out onto the tarmac. She figured none of the employees would miss it. Walking out onto the tarmac Michelle could see a small single engined high winged Cessna powering up and beginning to taxi down the runway. The wind blew ever so slightly around them. Following a roped off path lined by a red carpet the two witches walked up to the angular twin engines profile of a shiny new executive Learjet. Michelle took time to look the aircraft up and down with a degree of awe. She honestly could not believe she was about to fly on a private jet. It was the first time she had flown on an airplane since she came back from the Gulf and now she was flying in a private jet back to her home state. Michelle shook her head in disbelief. Sometimes her arrangement with Shirley seemed too good to be true.

Michelle followed Shirley up the steps toward the cabin of the airplane. When she was at the top of the stairs she was greeted with a tastefully done and exquisite interior. Wood trim lined the panels of the airplane, all gently shining under subdued lighting on the top of the cabin. The seats were lined in a beige leather with contrasting stitching, and the cabin featured a small table along with a fridge in the back corner of the plane. Michelle took her rucksack and sat on one side of the table while Shirley took her seat across from the younger witch.

After Shirley took her seat she watched as the ground crew shut the door and pulled the staircase away from the airplane. The pilot of the Learjet then asked Shirley and Michelle to buckle their seatbelts before opening up the throttle and making a few calls to the control tower. The plane then taxied them to the edge of the runway before making a few more calls to the tower. Michelle held on tightly as the engines of the Learjet were fired up to full throttle and the plane shot down the runway before lifting up into the air. Michelle looked out the window the whole time they took off.

"Feels nice huh?" Shirley said when the plane got to a safe enough altitude for her to walk about the cabin. She walked over to the fridge and opened it. "How about a drink to start the morning off?"

"Trying to get me drunk already?" Michelle remarked over her shoulder. "Sure, you know what, why not? You got any beer in there?"

Shirley peered closely into the fridge at the drink selection. "We have some Budweiser. That okay with you?"

"Sounds perfect," Michelle replied. She watched as Shirley took a bottle of gin, ice, and tonic water along with a bottle of beer and a cocktail shaker. Shirley mixed up a gin and tonic for herself before pouring it into a glass. She passed Michelle her beer bottle and a bottle opener before walking over to an electronic panel in the front of the airplane. "What's that thing?" Michelle questioned.

"It's a stereo," Shirley said. She bent over and reached down to open a drawer. Inside it was full of cassette tapes. "I figured I would put some music on for us."

"I assume you don't have any Testament in there?" Michelle asked playfully. "Maybe some Megadeth? Merciful Fate? At the very least some Queen or Black Sabbath? I mean even someone like you has to have a little bit of a thing for Freddy Mercury."

Shirley chuckled at Michelle's statement and continued looking through the cassette tapes. "While I do think Freddy Mercury is an incredible talent, I can't say I have any Queen or any of those other bands on cassette here on the plane with us. But I do got something more than fitting for the situation at hand."

Michelle raised her eyebrow as Shirley continued to rummage through the tapes. The elder redhead continued to poke through the drawer and look around until she found a tape that was to her liking. Shirley reached up and loaded the cassette into the tape deck and shut it before pressing play. It was silent for a few seconds until Michelle felt her ears graced with the sound of a classic big band ensemble and a voice she had not heard in several years but would know anywhere.

 _'Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away_  
 _If you can use some exotic booze_  
 _There's a bar in far Bombay_  
 _Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away'_

Michelle held her breath at the sound of the lyrics and signature crooning voice that came out of the stereo. She clenched her beer bottle tightly and looked away from the stereo and Shirley, staring out of the window with a long face that spoke volumes. Shirley initially smiled at the sound of the music, but then noticed the sullen look on her companion's face. Concerned, she walked over to Michelle and sat at the table across from her with her gin and tonic in hand.

"Something wrong?" she asked gently. Michelle didn't respond at first and kept looking out the window, her face looking almost as hollow as the night Shirley saw her taken away in a police cruiser. The music continued to play in the background.

 _'Come fly with me, let's float down to Peru_  
 _In llama land there's a one man band_  
 _And he'll toot his flute for you_  
 _Come fly with me, let's take off in the blue.'_

"Michelle?" Shirley spoke up again. She cocked her head slightly to the side while looking at the younger witch. "Is everything alright?"

Michelle continued to gaze out of the window at the horizon as the plane flew along but finally spoke up. "I miss my grandparents," Michelle said quietly. Shirley kept her head cocked to the side and ran her finger around the edge of her glass. Michelle lowered her gaze to her hands and fiddled with a hang nail on her thumb. "Sinatra was my Pop Pop and Nona's thing. They used to dance slow to his music in the kitchen after big family dinners we would have at their house." She smiled sadly at the memories coming back to her. "They wouldn't start until one of my aunts would shoo us kids all away. Sometimes though I would sneak back and watch them. I memorized a lot of Sinatra's songs that way." She sighed heavily and felt that weight inside her chest creep up again.

Shirley continued to run her finger on the edge of her glass and placed her head in her right hand. "You think about them a lot?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah," Michelle said staring out the window. "Every single day." Shirley went to get up and go toward the stereo but Michelle stopped her. "You can keep it on," she said, sadness tinging her voice.

"Michelle, I don't…" Shirley began.

"No," Michelle said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "It's what you want to listen to. I'm not gonna stop you." She looked up and out of the window of the airplane again as it cruised through the southern sky. Shirley felt a pang of remorse that the tape continued to play.

* * *

For the last two hours of the flight Michelle decided to move away from the table that her and Shirley sat at and splay herself out onto the rear bench for a nap. She drifted off into a content slumber and remained in such a position until a call went out over the intercom of the plane that made her stir.

"Passengers, we are nearing our final destination. We will be landing in Morristown in about 15 minutes," the captain said over the intercom. "Take your seats and fasten your seatbelts until landing please."

Morristown? Of all places they were going to land they were going to land in Morristown? Michelle again had to pinch herself on the elbow. She couldn't believe she was going back to Morristown of all places. It had been at least five years since she had last been to Morristown. It was the place where one of her uncles and some of her cousins took her to a movie and a night out for burgers at the famous Committed Pig restaurant before she left for the Gulf. It was the place where when she was home on leave from Langley while out with a friend of hers from school she met the first boy she ever flirted with while they bowled frames at the Hannover Lanes bowling alley. It was the place where her and her cousins would start on their annual Christmas light paruses through Morris, Sussex, and Somerset counties. Not only did it it hold all those memories for her but there was something more. Morristown was but a hop, skip, and a jump away from her hometown. That made her more anxious than anything about this trip had so far.

She took her place next to Shirley and buckled her seatbelt. The elder witch had a big smile strewn across her face as the plane made its final descent. Michelle could not figure out what the buxom redhead had planned now. She wanted to ask but the plane continued its rapid descent until it touched the ground with a jolt and began the process of hitting the brakes upon the runway. Michelle hung onto the sides of her seat tightly until the plane stopped on the runway and began to taxi toward the fixed base. When it stopped Michelle sighed and unbuckled her seatbelt. She went to an overhead bin to grab her rucksack and then followed Shirley out of the plane. Initially the elder witch seemed to move at a very brisk pace, but Michelle quickly caught up to her and took her side.

"What the fuck, Shirley?" Michelle cursed in an angry huff. "Why didn't you tell me we were flying into Morristown?"

"I figured it wouldn't be a big deal," Shirley said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Besides, this is where we're going to do your testing."

"Are you serious?" Michelle questioned. Michelle couldn't believe that Shirley didn't consider telling her where exactly in New Jersey they were going, though she did consider that Shirley had no idea of what Morristown meant in regards to her past. The two women continued to walk through the fixed base. "You mean to tell me that it's all going down here?"

"That's right."

"And let me guess," Michelle said as she walked alongside Shirley. The two witches made their way toward a seating area inside. "The people who are going to build us a racing striker are based out of Morristown as well."

The two women continued to walk through the halls of the base until they arrived at a group of sofas all arranged in a square. It was upon the sofas that Michelle saw two women sitting down. One was short, no taller than 5'2" standing all the way upright. She had fading orange red hair and blue eyes, a few grey strands showing through what was otherwise an impressively colored head of hair that was very similar to Shirley's. She wore a light blue short sleeved button down shirt and a pair of jeans, her feet covered by brown ankle length work boots. A few pens protruded from her shirt pocket and she held a brown leather shoulder bag next to her body. She sat cross legged on the sofa. The other woman had a similarly colored hair but without the grey, a full head of carrot orange hair. She wore a tee shirt that bore the symbol of a fighter wing that Michelle could not immediately recognize but knew it was associated with the Air Force. She wore jean shorts and had glasses covering her blue eyes, and her hair flowed down to her shoulders. Michelle looked over at both women curiously as Shirley walked up to them and got their attention.

"Don't I get a hero's welcome?" Shirley questioned. The younger of the two women looked up and smiled while elder red head stood up to meet Shirley and laughed. "What, you can't admit you're happy to see an old idol of yours for the first time in awhile, Fran?"

"I suppose so," the elder woman said chuckling. Shirley and her shook hands before embracing each other in a hug. "Tell your wife she needs to not have that keyboard of hers shoved so far up her ass."

Shirley couldn't help but laugh at the older witch's profane remark. Michelle and the younger woman who was sitting on the sofa looked on curiously at the interaction between the two older woman. Eventually Shirley and the shorter woman turned around the face Michelle. "Michelle, meet Francie Gerard-Scott," Shirley said with a smile and one hand wrapped around the shorter woman's arm. "She's the woman who's gonna build us a racing striker."

Michelle raised her eyebrows and put her hand out for Francie to shake. The older woman reached out and met Michelle's hand and shook as Michelle stood there in silence. She had a hard time believing that this woman was going to be the one building the striker unit. She looked as old as Shirley, so Michelle wondered if maybe she was a witch from the Second Neuroi War as well. She must have been otherwise Shirley would not be greeting her the way that she was. Still Michelle wondered what Francie had up her sleeve.

"So you're the racing witch," Francie said as she looked Michelle up and down while shaking Michelle's hand. "Let me ask you something first. What kind of strikers have you flown?"

Michelle was slightly confused by the question as an introduction, but she figured she best answer. "Got my start on the T-37 in 85, moved up to the T-38 in 86, and got checked out in 87 on the F-15C," Michelle explained. "What's it to you?"

Francie raised her eyebrow at Michelle. "You've never flown a reciprocator?" she questioned. The older woman furrowed her brow and let go of Michelle's hand. "Was there anyone in your family who was ever a witch before you?"

"My dad's sister was a ground witch, armored infantry on the M48 Patton," Michelle explained. "I'm the first one in my family to fly."

"That's interesting," Francie said. She then looked behind her shoulder before waving her hand at the younger woman to come up and join the conversation.

"I'd like you to meet my granddaughter, Marceline," Francie said, introducing Michelle to the younger woman.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Marceline said with a smile. She reached out her own hand which Michelle took and shook gently. "Please, call me Marcy though. Only people who call me Marceline are my grandma and grandpa," she said sheepishly.

"You got it, Marcy," Michelle said with a slight smile as she shook the younger woman's hand. "I'm Michelle and it's a pleasure to meet you too." She took her hand away from the younger woman and turned back to Francie and Shirley. "So what are we doing here exactly?"

"I'm sure that Shirley explained to you that we need to run some tests on your magic," Francie explained. "Gertrud sent me your dossier and while it says you're quite capable, as a woman of science I can't just trust the judgments of some armchair types. The fact that you've also never flown a reciprocating striker does raise some concerns, but it's nothing terribly unheard of I suppose. Regardless, I'll be running a battery of tests to determine whether or not you'll be fit to throw a racing striker around the pylons."

"How long will it take to determine if I'm fit?" Michelle questioned. She was deeply curious of all that was being explained to her.

"Knowing if you can actually put a striker out at the limit on the pylons will take time," Francie explained further. "But I'll be able to know if you can hypothetically control a striker unit after each test we conduct. By the end of our stay here I'll be able to let Shirley know if building a racing striker for you is a worthwhile endeavor or a complete waste of resources."

Michelle nodded her head and looked back at Shirley carefully. Although she knew she didn't have to rely on Shirley for anything, she really hoped that she wasn't wasting the elder witch's time. The thought of testing her magic both nervous and excited all at once. She wanted to know what Francie had planned for her, and she also wanted to see what her magic was capable of.

* * *

Shirley and Michelle spent part of the evening eating dinner at The Committed Pig with Francie and Marcy. Over burgers and cola Michelle learned a lot about Shirley and Francie's relationship. It turned out Francie was indeed a veteran of the Second Neuroi War and was stationed with a small joint fighter wing known as the Isle of Wight Air Defense Wing. She learned that Shirley was Francie's personal idol from the time she entered the war to the time she left the Isle of Wight, having modeled her own inherent speed magic to work in a similar manner to Shirley's. Michelle also found out that after the war Francie raced in dirt track stock car races that were a predecessor to the modern NASCAR Cup series, and was both fairly successful and met her future husband Sam "Slick Sammy" Scott in the series. Michelle still had more questions for Francie and Marcy, but those would have to wait until the next day when they began the testing.

In the morning Michelle and Shirley drove themselves back to Morristown Airport and parked their car next to an empty hangar at the far end of the airport. Francie and Marcy waited near the front of the hangar and greeted the two witches before closing the massive hangar doors and turning the lights on. Inside the hangar Michelle was greeted with the sight of a small engineering office inside. A desk with scattered graph paper, pencils, and a T-square. Next to the desk was a bay of computer screens and towers, all of them connected by long wires to both another desk with a small monitor and keyboard. In the center of the room was a machine Michelle had never seen before.

"I gotta ask," Michelle said turning to the elder Scott, "How do you know how to build a racing striker, Francie?"

"First of all you can call me Fran," Francie said warmly as she turned on some of the computers. "If you must know, it started after my car racing career ended. I got pregnant with Marceline's father and needed a safer source of income, so I parlayed my technical skills into a job out in Santa Monica, California with the Douglas Aircraft Company. They wanted people who knew how to set up and tune striker units, so I got a job working with magical componentry and aerodynamic designs. I worked for them for about thirty years. And on the side, after Marcy's father grew up a bit, I raced my own striker."

Michelle raised her eyebrows at Francie's story. "You raced your own striker?"

"I won the first predecessor race to the SARC out at Reno back in 1966," Francie explained. She logged into the computer and shuffled some papers around her desk. "It was Bill Stead's idea to have witches go around the pylons like the unlimited planes, so I took a modified P-51 up and beat the panties off everybody on the grid. After that I lent the striker to a few other witches, namely Marian Carl's daughter, Marian Jr.. We ran a team for a few years afterward. We actually won three unlimited races in 1970 at Mojave, Sherman, and Reno. Marian and I were the class of the field for a few years."

The last statement was made with a reminiscing tone that Michelle picked up on. She nodded her head impressed. Francie had a lot more to share than she expected. "Why'd you stop if you were so good?"

"First Marian retired, which was to be expected," Francie began. She went over to a control panel and flicked some switches. Screens began to flicker on in front of Michelle. "She couldn't handle the travel when the races began going outside the United States. And then McLaren came into the series and that was the beginning of the end for us privateers. They had more money and human capital than I could muster. My souped up P-51 couldn't compete with their MP strikers. It was like bringing a knife to a gunfight by that point, so I called it quits and went back to Douglas. I did a little consulting for a few of the other teams, but I couldn't afford to go competitively racing the way that those teams could." She looked up at Shirley with a smile. "Until my old idol came calling with a checkbook in hand."

Marcy furrowed her brow at her grandmother and put her hands on her hips. "Grammy, that's not a nice very way to talk about your old war buddy," she scolded. "She seems like she genuinely wants our help."

"I'm not questioning that, Marceline," Francie said with a chuckle. "It's just been awhile since I've had the opportunity to do something like this. And to be honest I never thought it would come from someone like Shirley."

"You know what they say," Shirley remarked with a smile. "It's better late to the game than never. And I knew the best strikers in the business are built by F&M AeroWorks."

"F&M AeroWorks?" Michelle said with her eyebrow raised. She looked back at Marcy. "You build striker units too, Marcy?"

"Sort of," Marcy said sheepishly while scratching her head with a wry smile. "After my tenure with the 64th ended I went to work with my grandma. We do consulting for General Dynamics. It's why we're based out of Morristown actually. Our office is over in Florham Park and our lab is in this hangar."

Michelle nodded before she realized something that Marcy had said. "Wait a second," she said with shock. "You said you were in the 64th, as in 64th Aggressor Wing?"

"Mmhmm," Marcy replied back with a light smile. "What about it?"

"Well I'll be," Michelle said surprised with a shake of her head. "I never thought I'd actually get the chance to speak to a real Scorpion Witch. You girls were a real pain in my ass for the longest time." Michelle sighed while holding her hands on one of her hips. "I swear combat against the Scorpion Witches was a hundred times harder than against the neuroi."

"Really?" Marcy said nervously. She scratched the back of her head sheepishly. "I'm sorry if we were so hard on you. We were just trying to keep your skills sharp."

"Enough with the chit chat, ladies," Francie remarked impatiently as she continued to set up her equipment. "There's a lot to do we need to do today." She turned her head toward Michelle. "Michelle, we need to get you onto the magical dynamometer and have you do a few pulls."

"A magical dynamometer?" she said confused. Michelle walked up to the machine in the center of the room. The machine was over six feet tall and was made out of shimmering metal painted white and red. It featured two extended appliances that looked like a striker unit still held by its chocks on the ground, except the striker didn't look like the jets that Michelle was typically used to seeing.

She looked at the machine curiously. "So this is a magical dynamometer?" she said looking back at Francie. Francie nodded and Michelle reached over to touch the machine. "What does it do?"

"It'll test your magical potency in a quantifiable manner," Francie explained as she walked up to the dyno. Michelle continued to look at the machine with a degree of curiosity and rubbed its pale sheen. "I use it to test just how strong a witch actually is beyond a simple assessment that an armchair cynic can come up with for a dossier." Francie looked at the machine with a smile and then turned to Michelle. "Well are you going to just stare at it all day or actually get into it?"

"Oh, yeah," Michelle blushed and turned to Francie and Shirley. "Of course."

She stood up and walked behind the dynamometer before ascending its staircase and walking to the top. Once she ascended the staircase she stood down at the pockets of the bolted in striker unit that resided in the dyno. Swallowing nervously she pulled her jean shorts off, stripping down to a pair of borrowed silk white panties before breathing in deeply and exhaling once. She then reached down with her lungs and breathed in again before centering herself and digging deep within. With a jump and an exhale she bathed the room in an ethereal blue glow. Shirley and Francie watched as a long, flowing tail emerged from her backside and instead of ears sprouting from her head the bangs of her brown hair turned blonde as she landed inside the pockets of the dynamometer. When she did an engine roared to life, sending a magic circle out from the dyno through the hangar that made Shirley and Francie's mouths drop slightly. The sheer size of the circle was a sign that Michelle's magic was not something to be taken lightly. If anything it seemed to be more powerful than either elder witch anticipated. Still, Francie was not about to take a light show as a sure display of power.

Curious about the features Michelle displayed while her magic was engaged, Shirley spoke up first. "What's your familiar, Michelle?" she shouted over the machine.

Michelle looked over at Shirley. She continued to channel her magic into the dynamometer and make the engine run. "A saluki," Michelle replied over the noise.

"A what?" Shirley shouted back. She had never heard of such an animal before.

"A saluki," Marcy spoke up from the edge of the hangar. She ran up next to Shirley and her grandmother. "The legendary hound of the Fertile Crescent, known for their ability to chase gazelles and rabbits for miles across vast distances."

Shirley raised her eyebrows and held her chin in a thinking pose. "A dog like that as the familiar of a Romagnan-Liberion witch," Shirley said curiously. She knew it wasn't unheard of for witches to have odd familiars; her own comrade in arms Francesca Lucchini had a unique leopard familiar despite coming from a place where leopards didn't exist. She decided not to question it further, but was still somewhat shocked that a dog from the middle east was Michelle's familiar.

"So what am I supposed to do?" Michelle asked as the engine revved under her.

"When I give you the signal I want you to push as much magic into that engine as you possibly can," Francie explained over the roar of the dynamometer. She took her place behind a computer with Shirley and Marcy in tow. The two other witches looked on at the computer screen and the other monitors closely. Francie typed some commands onto the computer and then looked over at Michelle. "Are you ready?"

Michelle nodded back in affirmation. "I'm ready," she called out over the engine.

"On my mark," Francie called back. Shirley and Marcy watched curiously at the monitors. "3, 2, 1, clear!"

Michelle began to dig deep within herself. She concentrated forcefully on every ounce of her being, every fiber of her soul, as the magic began to swell up within her. With every ounce of power coming up from within her being she bathed the room in an increasingly wide swathe of blue light. Shirley, Francie, and Marcy all watched as the dynamometer began to glow blue and white from the magic being pumped inside, but it held firm and did not buckle an ounce. The three older witches looked on as the light around Michelle began to blind her body and pull up around her, cloaking her in an aura of magic as the engine revved harder and harder. Francie watched the monitors closely and paid attention to the readings she was getting from the machine, watching as the lines showing readouts of Michelle's magical power increase throughout the pull. The engine began to rev at higher and higher RPMs, making the noise in the hangar almost deafening. It was then that Francie made her call. She bolted up from behind the screen and ran over the dynamometer before making a slashing motion with her hand across her throat to tell Michelle to stop. Once Michelle saw this she cut off her magic and the engine ceased running. Francie went to the dynamometer with a surprised looked on her face.

"Let me ask you something," Francie said as Michelle stepped out of the dynamometer. "How old did you say you were?"

Michelle raised her eyebrow as she sat at the top of the dynamometer with her familiar features still protruding. "I'm twenty one," Michelle stated curiously, skeptical of what Francie was getting at.

"You sure you're not sixteen?" Francie questioned wryly as she opened up some panels on the dynamometer to run some visual checks. "A witch your age should've had a hard time making that kind of a pull on the dyno."

Michelle raised her eyebrows. "So I did well?" she asked surprised.

"Yeah, you did," Francie said as she poked around the dynamometer's innards. "That was as good of a pull as I've ever recorded from a witch, and I mean any witch."

Michelle felt her jaw drop at Francie's declaration. As good as any witch as Francie had seen? That had to be something to be impressed by. She quickly shut her mouth and gave an excited but cocky raise of her eyebrows and a smile. She pumped her fist in excitement. "Hell yeah!" she exclaimed. She turned over to Shirley, who was staring with mouth agape slightly at Francie's declaration. "Tell that to the Old Bat when we call her up tonight!" she said gleefully with a smirk.

Shirley snickered at Michelle's nickname for her wife. Francie meanwhile continued to check the guts of the dynamometer before turning back to her computers and giving Michelle the signal to begin another pull. The three witches watched as Michelle once again bathed the room in a bright blue glow, taking in the sight of the power they were witnessing on display.


	7. A Movable Feast

**My apologies this chapter took so long! I recently started a new job and the training was quite strenuous. But I'm back and more regular updates will be coming in the future!**

 **Thanks for the support!**

 **-Symbiotic**

* * *

Francie and Marcy continued testing Michelle's magic diligently over the next few days. From the wee hours in the morning till late at night Michelle would be subject to variety of tests ranging from pulls on the dynamometer, being hooked up to special electrodes that monitored her magic from both a resting position and revving the dynamometer, to tests of physical strength augmented by magic that involved Michelle holding firm in the face of a massive gust of wind generated by an industrial grade fan. The testing wore on Michelle somewhat but like her physical training with Gertrud she could see an endgame to each of her actions. The testing may have been mentally straining, but Michelle welcomed the fact that for the most part they weren't all that physically exerting and didn't require any actual flying, which she was still nervous about trying. She hoped deeply that she was still capable of flying, and that she wasn't wasting Shirley's efforts. Shirley and her had spent enough time together that Michelle would have felt slightly guilty if Francie determined their testing yielded unsatisfactory results and Michelle wasn't fit to race a striker unit. She admittedly would be disappointed herself as well. She was beginning to become accustomed to the idea of being a star racing witch.

When the third day of testing ended Michelle and Shirley said goodbye to Francie and Marcy before heading off in their rental car back into the heart of Morristown. "So, how does something exotic for dinner sound to you?" Shirley asked while driving their Chevrolet Impala back into Morristown. Michelle looked over at her curiously.

"What did you have in mind?" Michelle questioned raising an eyebrow.

"How about some Fuso food?" Shirley asked. "Is that cool with you?"

"Well there's a lot of different kinds of Fuso food. . .so was there something in particular?" Michelle responded while watching the scenery out the window.

"How about sushi?" Shirley suggested.

Michelle began to let her mind drift back to her days in the Gulf which was the last time she had eaten Fuso food. Fuso food was typically a delicacy in Liberion because of the uncommon ingredients and tedious preparation so it often was out of her budget during her vagabond days. During her days in the Gulf though she ate her fair share of Fuso food. Two of her squadron mates had been from Fuso and were adept cooks. One had an older brother who had apprenticed under a famous sushi chef in Tokyo and had imparted some of his wisdom upon her cooking skills. She remembered the rich smells that used to come from their mess hall kitchen and her mouth watered slightly at the thought of eating so well again. The thought of such luxury was highly welcome.

"I'm cool with that," Michelle said, turning back to Shirley and leaning back in her seat. "Lead the way."

Shirley smiled lightly and drove around Morristown until she found a Fuso restaurant. Michelle and her walked through the doors to see a restaurant with maroon paint complementing ornate bamboo wallpaper and various Fuso artistic renderings upon the walls. The tables and the sushi bar were all a bright colored wood with ornate seating surfaces. To the side were some rooms closed off by Fuso style sliding doors. Shirley requested one of the rooms when they arrived at the hostess' kiosk and the two witches followed the hostess to the room. They slipped their shoes off before sitting around the low table. The two ordered some steamed edamame and hot tea to start their meal.

"So how much longer we got until Francie decides to build us a racing striker?" Michelle questioned while she split a soybean pod with her fingers. She shot the bean into her mouth and chewed on it while Shirley sipped on her tea.

"We only have one more day of testing," Shirley said with a slight smile. She took another sip of her tea before setting it down. "After that she'll crunch the numbers and then we'll know if building one is worth it."

Michelle nodded and turned as the door to their sectioned off dining area was opened by the waitress. Shirley placed orders for numerous pieces of nigiri, temaki, and sashimi before going back to their conversation. Michelle had a few things she felt she had to ask Shirley before she forgot, or no longer had the opportune moment to ask her when they were alone like this.

"Shirley, can I ask you something?" Michelle questioned. Shirley looked up at Michelle and gave her a gentle smile that easily conveyed to her that she could ask anything. "It's about you and Gertrud."

"What about Trude and I?" Shirley said gently. Michelle took careful note of just how warm Shirley's voice sounded at the question. It made her feel more at ease about the questions she was going to ask the elder witch.

She shrugged her shoulders awkwardly and shot another soybean into her mouth. "How did you and Gertrud get together?"

"Hmm?" Shirley sipped on her tea before going to answer Michelle. "You said you read I Struck Back? So you should know that Trude and I met in the 501st."

"I know that," Michelle said as she continued to eat the edamame. The waitress arrived and placed plates of sashimi, temaki, and nigiri in front of the two witches to eat. Shirley thanked the waitress with a small bow of her head before the waitress closed the door and left the two witches to continue their conversation in peace. Shirley went and took the first bite, grabbing a piece of yellowtail sashimi and placing it in her mouth. "But I don't understand how you two got together. I mean Gertrud is kind of a hardass and you're kind of a...free spirit? How is it that the two of you ended up together?"

Shirley swallowed the sashimi and turned back to Michelle. "You mean like how we ended up Mrs. and Mrs. Yeager?" the elder witch remarked with a smile. Michelle nodded her head up and down as she began to eat some of the sushi herself. She shifted her weight against the table as she devoured the rice and fish before her, listening closely as Shirley began to speak up.

"You know it's funny, Michelle," Shirley began. Michelle took a temaki roll and listened closely while munching on the raw fish and rice. "Trude and I used to be big rivals, I'm sure you know that from reading I Struck Back."

"Weren't you two constantly at each other's throats?" Michelle questioned as she ate her sushi. She was intent on getting all the details she could.

"Pretty much," Shirley said with an unexpected smile. "It was the case of a strict Karlslander having to put up with a Liberion girl who had a big personality."

And a few other big things, Michelle thought with a roll of her eyes and a brief glance at Shirley's bust. She continued to listen closely to Shirley while munching on the sushi. The raw fish was one of the most welcome meals she had the pleasure of eating in a very long time.

"Trude at one point was a higher rank than me, so she got away with being such a disciplinarian when I first arrived in the 501st," Shirley explained. "From my arrival till the end of the summer of 1944, when the neuroi hive over Gallia was eliminated, I had to put up with Trude keeping me in line. Well not just me but Hartmann, Eila, and especially my good friend Francesca Lucchini. Trude was trying her damn hardest to keep us all in line for Commander Minna and Major Sakamoto."

"When did things change?" Michelle asked curiously. She reached down and took a piece of tuna nigiri with her chopsticks.

"They started changing in 1945, when the 501st reformed to counter the neuroi hive over Venezia," Shirley explained further while eating some of her sashimi. "By that point I had received a promotion to captain that carried over to the 501st, so Trude was no longer above me in rank. Now we were supposed to see eye to eye on everything and work together, but a lot of the time we didn't. You see, I believed in just letting everyone be themselves, but Trude thought we all had a certain code of conduct that had to be upheld at all times. So we butted heads constantly. I can in particular remember one instance where I was testing out my P-51 like you were doing pulls on the dyno in our hangar. It was a hot day and it was fairly early in the morning, so I skipped getting dressed and decided to do the test in nothing but my underwear. Low and behold Trude shows up and proceeds to tear me a new one over the fact that I'm basically naked while testing a striker unit. In retrospect I understand where she was coming from, but at the time I just thought she was being ridiculous."

"Sounds like it," Michelle said, taking a careful sip of her tea while listening to Shirley. "So what brought you two closer?"

"Well I'm sure you're familiar with the jet striker incident if you read Trude's book, are you not?" Shirley asked curiously. Michelle nodded her head as she chewed on a piece of salmon. She was intimately familiar with the incident, having noted it as a major turning point in Gertrud's career. She was always curious about the incident, and was eager to learn more about it. "Well after that fiasco, Trude was grounded for awhile. She was forced to do menial labor for disobeying a direct order to never fly the jet striker again. At first I felt it served her right, but each day I walked past her doing things like peeling potatoes and I just…" Shirley paused and looked up at the ceiling. "I just had this feeling like she needed some company. So I stuck around and started helping her."

"You helped Gertrud with her sentence?" Michelle said surprised. That was not even something she would consider doing, even if the sentence was just menial labor.

"Mmhmm. And it was during that period that we began to squash our differences," Shirley said. "When the sentence ended and Trude was allowed to fly again the two of us used to train together and we grew even closer. We found out that we were so hard on one another just because we wanted the other to succeed. Trude thought discipline and a lot of focus could make me a great witch, and I felt Trude would be a better commander if she could just figure out how to loosen up a bit and not hold everyone in such a chokehold all the time. And from that we started becoming friends."

"And lovers?" Michelle questioned.

"That didn't come till after the war ended," Shirley explained tactfully. "But I'm sure that the feelings were in us both during that time."

Michelle raised her eyebrow curiously as she continued to eat some of the fish in front of her. She got the hint that there were some details that Shirley was glossing over. "So what happened in between the war years with you two? You two didn't get hitched right after the last neuroi hive was destroyed, or did you?"

"No," Shirley said with a shake of her head. "Trude and I went our separate ways for awhile. We didn't get married until 1954."

Michelle could hear in the tone of Shirley's voice that something was missing from this whole story. "So what happened in between then?" she asked slowly but curiously.

"I think that period of our lives is one only Trude should talk about," Shirley said solemnly.

Michelle decided not to press the matter further and changed the subject to something else. The two witches conversed over various pleasantries while eating their sushi. When the meal was over Shirley called the waitress back and paid with her credit card. After the bill was paid the two witches walked out of the restaurant. On the way out Michelle glanced over and looked at a calendar near the hostess station at the front of the restaurant. She observed today's date and then looked over at the date of the next day. When she saw what day it was she felt her heart sink into her stomach and a knot grow in her throat.

"Saint Cesario," she said to herself quietly. She looked over at Shirley, who didn't seem to notice what she said. Michelle thought about speaking up further, but decided it was not in her best interest and followed the elder witch out the door.

* * *

For most of the night Michelle remained awake in her hotel bed, hardly able to sleep with the thoughts of the coming day on her mind. How was it possible that she could forget the date of one of the most important days of the year for her family? Not that Shirley would know that tomorrow held any significance. Most people who weren't of Romagnan descent rarely knew the holiday even existed. She would have no idea that their trip happened to coincide with a painful reminder of the distance that existed between her and her family. Although now that distance was no longer physical.

Eventually she quieted the anxious thoughts racing through her mind regarding the holy day her family celebrated and she drifted off into a restless slumber. She managed to get just enough rest before her alarm clock went off at 7:00 AM. She groggily got up from her slumber and went to the shower, bathing under nearly scalding hot water to wake herself up while shampooing her hair down and washing her body with soap. The uneasy thoughts returned to the forefront of her mind and she stopped washing herself. Standing under the hot water she felt her heart sink into her stomach again. Why did she feel so guilty? It was just another day on the calendar to someone like Shirley. Plus the testing Michelle was going to undergo today was far more important than attending some holy day that her family just happened to celebrate, right? She remained lost in thought until Shirley knocked on the door and Michelle turned the shower off and let the elder witch take her turn in the shower.

After Michelle and Shirley got dressed the two witches went downstairs to the cafeteria to eat the complimentary breakfast. Michelle made herself a waffle that she dabbed with some butter and maple syrup while making herself a small fruit cup and getting some coffee before sitting down at the table with Shirley. The elder witch noticed the glum look on Michelle's face while she ate her scrambled eggs and bacon.

"You're awfully quiet this morning," Shirley said carefully. Michelle played with food rather than really eating it, alternating between cutting the waffle up into small pieces and picking at pieces from the fruit cup. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Michelle said quietly. "Everything's fine."

Shirley raised her eyebrow and put her chin in her right hand. "With a look like that on your face I would beg to differ. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Michelle replied shrugging her shoulders. "I just didn't sleep well last night."

"How come?" Shirley asked while she chewed her bacon. She was worried about what was going on with her racing witch.

"I've just got some shit on my mind is all," Michelle stated plainly knowing Shirley wouldn't give up without an answer. She continued to play with her food, which made Shirley all the more concerned.

"What's going on, Michelle?" Shirley asked frowning slightly. Michelle picked her head up at the sound of Shirley's voice. This was not the tone of someone who was eager to get things done. It was not the tone of someone who wanted things to go her way. On the contrary it was the tone of someone who seemed genuinely caring, and it was a tone that Michelle could not possibly ignore anymore with what kind of thoughts that were going through her head. Now she felt compelled to speak up.

Swallowing nervously and setting her fork down, Michelle finally began to talk. "Shirley, can we please skip testing today?"

She held her breath and waited for Shirley to give an agitated response. But it never came. "Hmm?" the elder witch tilted her head. "Why do you want to do that?"

Michelle sighed and felt the weight begin to press against her shoulders. There was no turning back from her request now. Shirley was never going to let it go, and Michelle knew she had to explain herself if she had any desire to put the subject completely to rest. "Look, I didn't realize it until we went to the restaurant yesterday and I saw a calendar, but today is the Feast of Saint Cesario."

"The Feast of who?" Shirley asked raising an eyebrow.

"Saint Cesario," Michelle began. "He's some martyr from a bygone era who became the patron saint of Romagnan immigrants. Every year on this day my family celebrates the Feast of Saint Cesario. There's a big parade along with a bunch of fireworks and after that we get together at my Pop Pop and Nona's place for a big meal. It's a tradition that a lot of the Romagan-Liberion families in Netcong and Stanhope take part in."

"Sounds like it's a pretty big deal," Shirley asked with a gentle tone to her voice.

Michelle sighed and felt the knot in her throat attempt to bundle itself up again, but she pushed it back down knowing that Shirley did not seem upset by what she was explaining. "I was thinking about it all last night," Michelle stated. "It's why I didn't get a lot of sleep. I haven't been to the feast since I was on leave back in '88, before they shipped me out to Langley. And I kind of…" Michelle paused before continuing. "No, not kind of. I really want to go."

"You want to skip testing and go to the feast instead," Shirley finished softly. She was beginning to get any idea of where Michelle was going with this. She watched as Michelle struggled to hold back some tears and looked down at her food.

"I haven't seen my family since before I went off the Gulf," Michelle said quickly. She looked up and away from Shirley, eyes beginning to turn pink instead as they tried not to well up with tears. "I really want to see them again, Shirley. At first I didn't think it would be that big of a deal but I spent the whole night thinking about it and how stupid I would be if I didn't at least ask if I could take the chance to see them." She looked over at Shirley and stared at her with pleading eyes. "Look I understand if we need to continue testing before we leave for San Antonio today, but please can we just skip it and go to Netcong for the feast? I'll show you how to get there and explain everything if we go."

She looked at Shirley with a pleading face that the elder witch had never seen on the hardened racing witch before. She thought back to how important it was to her to keep in contact with her own brothers and sisters. The fact that Michelle had not seen hers in so long and had seemingly lost contact with them tugged at something inside of her. With that in mind she asked Michelle to wait while she made a phone call to Francie and Marcy. She walked over to the front desk and grabbed the wired white telephone from the receptionist and took the receiver, dialing the number for F&M Aeroworks carefully. While it took a few tries, eventually she got through to Francie. Michelle watched carefully as Shirley calmly explained the situation and talked back and forth with Francie. She carefully studied Shirley's facial expression with a fixated perception, hanging onto every movement of her mouth and brow, along with watching her body language closely. Eventually she watched as she nodded her head, hung up the phone, and gave the phone back to the receptionist. She walked back over to Michelle.

"Francie and Marcy said they have enough data to scrub today's testing," Shirley said with a gentle smile. Michelle felt herself release the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"You mean…" Michelle began eagerly.

"Show me how to get to Netcong and I'll take you to the Feast of Saint Cesario," Shirley said kindly. She reached out and gave Michelle her hand as an indication of sincerity. "Is that a deal?"

Michelle reached out eagerly and shook Shirley's hand. "It's a deal," she replied back excitedly. She stood up and ran toward the front door. "Come on, we don't have a lot of time before the festivities begin, and I don't want to miss the parade and those fireworks!" Shirley chuckled at her racing witch's exuberance. She was glad she had the chance to help her make things right.

* * *

It took a bit longer than expected to get from Morristown to Netcong, mostly because Route 46 was backed up due to a police checkpoint of people heading to the Feast. Shirley could feel her racing witch grow more antsy as they got closer and closer to her hometown, Michelle growing more excited with each turn and stretch of highway that she told Shirley to stay on as they made their way from the city that was Morristown to the suburbia that was Netcong. Shirley admittedly found herself growing more excited and interested in what was going to happen as they got closer and closer to Michelle's hometown. She was eager to see just what this Feast of Saint Cesario was all about.

Eventually after slogging their way through traffic, getting past the police checkpoints, and finding an appropriate place to park their rental car, Michelle and Shirley arrived for the feast. As soon as they got out of the car they were greeted with a series of cracks emanating throughout the air followed by numerous loud bangs echoing throughout the sky. Shirley covered her ears at the sound of them, but Michelle looked up at the explosions in awe. "What the heck is going on?" Shirley shouted over the noise.

"The fireworks!" Michelle yelled. She looked up at the exploding bombs in the air, watching as they bathed the area in bright light and banged loudly. "It's been so long since I last saw those things."

"They shoot the fireworks off during the daylight?" Shirley yelled over the noise.

"Yep!" Michelle looked around and got her bearings as to wear they were in Netcong before running off to her right. "Come on, we gotta get to Togno Street."

Shirley ran off and caught up to Michelle, who was now leading the way at a breakneck pace that Shirley could tell had come from her training with Gertrud. "Wait," Shirley huffed. "What's at Togno street?"

"It's one of the streets where the parade passes through," Michelle explained. The fireworks continued to explode over her head and she stopped to let the elder witch catch up. "And it's where my grandparents live."

Shirley raised her eyebrows and continued after Michelle, who respectfully decided to slow down her pace so that way the elder witch could keep up with her. All around them the fireworks continued to shoot off into the air, making bright flashes in the sky and equally loud bangs that Shirley thought were only one step below artillery shells going off above her in volume. People lined the streets for miles, looking up at the sky with awe as the fireworks continued to shoot off. Shirley could hardly believe how many people were lining the streets and watching the fireworks. This festival was definitely larger and more important than she had originally envisioned it would be.

Eventually the two witches made it to Togno Street after running a few blocks through the crowds. The two took their place on the street next to a family and barely managed to squeeze their way to the curb to watch the parade go by.

"See any of your family?" Shirley asked over the fireworks.

Michelle looked around carefully, putting her hand over her eyes to shield it from the sun. It was then that she noticed across the street a woman with brown hair and olive colored skin wearing large sunglasses standing with a baby in her arms, surrounded by small children and a few older girls who appeared to be in their teenage years. Michelle felt her jaw drop and pointed over to Shirley. She knew immediately who the woman was and who some of the girls around her were.

"Holy shit," Michelle said with a gasp. She put her hand over her mouth and stepped back a few steps. Shirley looked over at her curiously. "That's my Aunt Amanda."

The fireworks stopped shooting off and Shirley finally got the chance to speak to Michelle without raising her voice. "Really?" Shirley said. She looked over at the woman and the children surrounding her curiously. "Is she your only aunt?"

"Not at all. I've got three of them," Michelle explained. "Adrian, Alessandra, and Amanda. And I've got three uncles too. Jake, John, and Joey. My Aunt Amanda is the youngest of my aunts. She must have gotten put on kid watch duty for the parade."

"So I assume all those kids over there are cousins of yours?" Shirley asked.

"That's right," Michelle said as she looked over at them. "Some of them must have been born when I was in the Gulf, but I recognize the older girls." She pointed to each of them, naming them as she went. "Those are my cousins Violet, Leandra, and Jenny." She looked at the girls and shook her head. "Damn, they grew up so much."

"How many cousins do you even have?" Shirley asked as they stood on the street.

"Let's see, last time I checked there were ten of us first cousins," Michelle explained. She watched as Shirley's eyes widened and her eyebrows go to the very top of her forehead. "But it looks like some new ones came around when I was away. So there could be more."

"And where do you fit into all this?"

"I'm the oldest," Michelle stated. Shirley nodded her head with her eyebrows still raised. For once Michelle was presenting her with information that was seemingly too good to be true. She could not believe just how large Michelle's family was. None of the families of witches in the 501st, even hers, came to being nearly as large. And she had never met a family from Liberion or Karlsland that came even close to being the same size as Michelle's family.

"So are you going to go over and say hi?" Shirley asked Michelle. She watched the younger witch shake her head.

"No," she responded. "Pop Pop and Nona come first."

Shirley nodded and looked on at the street as Michelle and her watched from the edge of curb for the parade. They waited for a few moments before the sound of snare drums and bugles filled the air around them. Shirley and Michelle turned to their right and watched as the parade came into view. The parade was led by police officers, firefighters, and EMTs all in formal regalia. They were followed by numerous groups of people, including a group of men and boys holding both the state flag of New Jersey, a Liberion flag, and a Romagnan flag. All of them wore black pants and white collared shirts. Michelle jumped excitedly at the sight.

"Look!" she exclaimed. She grabbed Shirley's arm and turned her toward the group. "Those are all my cousins and my uncles!"

Shirley looked over and watched as Michelle pointed out each one and explained the tradition unfolding before them. "Every year there's a presentation of the colors and one family gets chosen. And this year it was my family!" She looked on in awe as her family walked toward them and she pointed out each of her cousins and uncles.

"You weren't kidding when you said you had a big family," Shirley chuckled. "So when do you go see your grandparents?"

"We'll wait till the parade is over and they all go back to their house," Michelle said. Shirley nodded her head and watched with Michelle as the parade went on.

* * *

Eventually the parade made its way away from Togno Street and into the rest of Netcong. Being a hot day Michelle elected to take Shirley to a street booth to get some Romagnan ice. Michelle got herself a lemon flavored ice while Shirley got herself a raspberry flavored ice. The elder witch even went to order some zeppoles, but Michelle stopped her with a grab of Shirley's wrist.

"One of the cardinal sins you can commit against a Romagnan family is choosing a street vendor's zeppoles over Nona's zeppoles," Michelle said sternly.

Shirley shrugged her shoulders and paid for the Romagnan ices before following Michelle back to Togno street. "So are you going to see your grandparents now?"

"We are indeed," Michelle replied as she ate the frozen treat.

"We are?" Shirley said surprised. "You want me to meet them too?"

"What, you think I was just gonna leave the woman who's my boss and caretaker out on the street?" Michelle quipped. "You gotta be crazy." Michelle paused and looked back at Shirley with a somewhat sullen face. "Unless you don't want to of course."

Shirley could tell by Michelle's tone and expression that it would be a major disappointment to her racing witch if she said no, even if the request was unexpected. "I'd be honored to meet them!" Shirley said happily. Michelle smiled instantly and waved her hand for Shirley to follow her, which the elder witch did closely. "So what's the plan, Michelle?" the buxom redhead asked as they walked toward Togno Street.

"I want to see my Pop Pop first and introduce you to him," Michelle explained as they walked along, taking period spoonfuls of her frozen treat. "After that you'll meet my Nona and then my aunts and uncles and all their kids. I know it sounds like a lot but you don't have to remember anyone's names except for my grandparents."

"What should I call them?" Shirley asked.

"Sal and Dee," Michelle said as they walked along. "Or if you want Mr. and Mrs. Calabrese. They probably will just tell you to call them Sal and Dee though. If they are anything like I've always known them they'll treat you like one of their own, so using their names shouldn't be an issue."

Shirley nodded her head but then picked up on something Michelle had said. "Hey Michelle, you said their last name was Calabrese and not Taranto. Is this your mom's side of your family?"

"Yep," Michelle said curtly. Shirley decided not to press the matter further.

Eventually the two witches arrived at a house with tan colored brick work and a black shingled roof. From the outside both witches could hear the sound of adults and children talking and jumping in and out of a pool. They could even hear commotion going on inside the house from outside the front door.

Shirley looked over at Michelle and saw the younger witch in a tense position, her shoulders back and the hair on her neck standing upright. "You nervous?" she questioned.

"A little," Michelle said with a tremble in her voice. "It's been awhile, you know? I don't know how they'll react to seeing me."

"Only one way to find out," Shirley said matter-of-factly. Michelle looked over at the elder witch, who gave her a nod of her head as assurance that she would be by her side the whole time.

Michelle looked over at the front door and took a deep breath, exhaling heavily before reaching up and pushing the button for the doorbell. The doorbell chimed outside the house. Michelle waited nervously to see who would come to the door and watched as the door opened slowly. Much to both Witches surprise they weren't greeted by an adult but a boy who looked no more than fifteen years old with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes wearing a white collared shirt. The boy immediately recognized Michelle and went to yell out her name but not before Michelle put her finger on his lips.

"Shh shh shh," Michelle said carefully. "We don't want to disturb Nona, okay?" The boy nodded and reached over to wrap Michelle in a big hug.

"I missed you, Cousin," the boy said with a hint of sadness in his voice. Michelle hugged him back tightly.

"I missed you too, Christopher," Michelle replied as she held the teenage boy. She let go of her embrace and looked at him with a happy smile. "You grew up so much, little guy! Marching in the parade and all that. What the heck has Nona been feeding you?"

"Hey! I'm not so little anymore!" he shot back in jest. "I'm an All State linebacker and receiver for Mount Olive High School." Christopher flexed his muscles to show off how much he bulked up, which made Michelle laugh lightly. "You look like you've been bulking up yourself, cousin!"

"Heh, funny you say that," Michelle smirked, turning back to Shirley. The elder witch shook her head. "Shirley, meet my cousin, Christopher Collazo. He's my Aunt Alessandra's oldest and my best buddy growing up." Michelle wrapped her arm around his neck and gave him a noogie. "This little shit used to give me the biggest headaches when I would babysit him back in the day."

"Hey!" Christopher exclaimed, wincing playfully as Michelle rubbed his head with her knuckles. She released him from her hold and let him fix his hair. He then reached his hand out to Shirley and introduced himself, which she responded in kind. "So what brings you back?"

"Shirley and I were in town and I wanted to visit Pop Pop and Nona," Michelle explained. "You know where I can find Pop Pop, Chris?"

"He's in the back playing horseshoes with Uncle Jake and company," Christopher explained while pointing over to a gate that separated the driveway from the backyard. "You want me to take you to him?"

"Definitely," Michelle said quickly, not even thinking twice. She turned back to Shirley and ordered her to follow along.

The two witches followed Christopher as he opened the wooden gate. They slipped inside and were greeted by the sight of numerous people both young and old enjoying the afternoon in a party setting. Shirley recalled some of the uncles and male cousins that Michelle had pointed out, along with Michelle's aunt Amanda, but all of the others were people Shirley didn't recognize. She was incredibly thankful Michelle assured her she didn't have to remember everyone's names.

Shirley and Michelle followed Christopher to the back of the yard near the edge of the fence. A horseshoe pit came into view, with four men each smoking cigars and holding red solo cups presumably filled with alcohol throwing the horseshoes across the pit. Christopher raised his hand to order Michelle and Shirley to wait near near the edge of the pit while he got the attention of the oldest man standing at the pit. He was an older gentleman with tanned skin, slightly yellowing teeth, and thin grey hair covering his scalp. Shirley looked over at Michelle, who was intently focused on the man and Christopher. She knew then and there the man was Michelle's grandfather.

She watched as Christopher carefully tapped on his shoulder. The elder Calabrese turned around after lightly berating Christopher for interrupting the game of horseshoes. Shirley then watched as Christopher pointed over at Michelle, and looked over at the younger witch and the older man. Both of them had expressions of shock on their faces. The old man dropped his cigar and solo cup in surprise. Michelle stood still like her feet were shackled by chains, unable to move even an inch toward her grandfather.

"Michelle…" Shirley could hear the older man mutter. She looked over at Michelle, who had tears welling up in her eyes and her legs twitching like she had ants in her pants. "Is that really you?"

All Michelle did was nod her head before breaking the emotional shackles holding her legs in place and sprinting over to her grandfather, who held his arms wide open for his eldest granddaughter. Michelle ran right into his embrace, letting Sal hug Michelle tightly as tears began to well up in his own eyes.

"Hey Pop Pop," Michelle squeaked out as she held her grandfather. "I'm home."

"Michelle," Sal muttered. Shirley could hear him sniffling and struggling to hold back his own tears, trying to remain composed the way that a grizzled man of his generation was supposed to. But this was a time where showing emotion seemed more than acceptable. "Oh my baby…" He kissed her on the cheek before going back to holding her tight. "Where have you been?"

"Far away from here," Michelle said through her tears. She looked up at her grandfather directly into his eyes. Both of them stopped holding the tears back and let them flow to the ground. "But I'm home now." She sniffled and wiped the tears away from her eyes. "I missed you so much, Pop Pop."

By now the commotion Sal and Michelle had caused got everyone's attention, and they were running over to see what was going on. Some even burst out of the house to bear witness. Michelle took her time to greet all of them; her aunts Adrian, Alessandra, and Amanda all taking their turns telling Michelle how much they missed her and admire how much she had grown up, as if Michelle had been away for much longer than she had originally been away for and had undergone an amazing transformation. Her uncles Jake and John did the same, along with all her cousins. But two people that Michelle had mentioned to Shirley were missing until one announced his presence rather boisterously.

"What, I don't get a chance to hug my favorite pain in the ass?" a young man called out. Michelle, Shirley, and the others looked up to see a short young man with tanned skin and black hair with brown eyes and numerous tattoos on his arms wearing a white collared shirt holding his arms wide open. Shirley noticed that this one was clearly special to Michelle, especially when she saw the way Michelle's eyes glowed at his presence.

"Uncle Joey!" Michelle exclaimed. Shirley watched as Michelle sprinted over to him like a baseball player running for home plate and almost slid into his grasp. Once she was in his arms embraced him tightly. It was the tightest embrace Michelle had yet given to any of her relatives, a large bear hug that was reminiscent of a child clinging to its mother in its infancy. Shirley was smitten by the sight.

"You little shit, where the hell have you been?" Joseph Calabrese asked with a gritty tone that indicated he was at once angry, sad, and happy to see Michelle before him. Michelle rested his head on his shoulder. "You scared the bejesus out of all of us never writing back or calling like you were supposed to."

"I'm sorry, Uncle Joey," Michelle squeaked out. She sniffled and buried her face in his shirt. "I had so much shit going on my life. But now I'm home and that's all that…"

"Salvatore Calabrese! What is all this commotion about?" an elderly female voice shouted from the back deck. Shirley, Michelle, and the rest of the Calabrese family looked up to see a short elderly woman wearing an apron with pale skin and brown hair with brown eyes standing on the porch. Michelle looked up at the woman, immediately recognizing her voice and her signature apron. The outfit alone was unmistakable.

"Nona!" she exclaimed. And with that Michelle sprinted over to her faster than the elderly woman could blink. Michelle enveloped her in a tight embrace. The elderly woman was at first caught off guard, but quickly recognized the sound of the younger witch's voice.

"Michelle?" she said surprised. Like Sal she looked to see Michelle and immediately was shocked by her eldest grandchild, a glowing smile growing across her face that Michelle found welcome from all the emotional out bursts that were going on around her. "Oh my god, Michelle!" she said happily. Shirley watched as the older woman peppered her granddaughter with kisses and laughed as she held her granddaughter tightly. "Oh my baby, where have you been?"

"A long way from home, Nona," Michelle said with a light scoff in her voice. "But I had a friend bring me back." She stood up and turned to Shirley, who was standing in the middle of the commotion going on before her. "Everybody, this is Charlotte Yeager. She's my boss and the one who brought me back here."

"Charlotte Yeager," Sal said curiously. He walked up to the redhead and looked her up and down, which made Shirley blush embarrassingly in front of the elder gentleman. "As in 501st Joint Fighter Wing Charlotte Yeager?"

"That's right," Shirley said with a kind smile.

"Well I'll be!" he exclaimed. Sal promptly laughed and reached over to shake her hand, which he did so vigorously. "You and your lady friends saved my skin so many times back in my Navy days near Venezia, you know that? I'm forever in your debt."

Shirley felt her cheeks grow gently warm and shook the old man's hand back gently. "I'm glad we could help," she replied. She looked back over at Michelle and smiled at her like a mother smiling at her child. "Your granddaughter is a heck of a witch herself. She would've fit right in with the 501st."

"I'm sure she would've," Sal said while looking at his granddaughter with a face that let Shirley know he was proud of her. "You both must be very hungry. And it's almost time to eat. You think you can stay?"

"I don't know," Michelle said playfully. "I gotta go with what the boss says." She looked over at Shirley with an assertive yet happy gaze that told Shirley what her answer should be.

"I'd be honored, Sal," Shirley declared with a smile. She gave a thumbs up to Michelle, signaling once again that she would never leave her side.

* * *

Once everyone had settled down from the outpouring of feelings that came from Michelle's return, the Calabrese family led Michelle and Shirley to the table for a feast of epic proportions. The family sat at a series of large wooden tables covered by red and white checkered table cloth, the elders sitting at one end of the table that led into the adults, then the teenagers, and finally the young children. The table was covered with a variety of dishes, ranging from salad and traditional Liberion grilling fare like hot dogs and hamburgers for the youngest Calabrese children to Romagnan sausage, baked ziti, meatballs, and Michelle's personal favorite, her grandmother's lasagna.

Michelle and Shirley took a seat next to Sal and Dee, allowing to Michelle to bask in the closeness of being next to her beloved grandparents. Shirley sat to her right. After the commotion of getting all the children and relatives to the table settled down, everyone folded their hands and bowed their heads to give a blessing upon the food and to thank Michelle for returning. Shirley couldn't help but notice a few tears gently cascade from Michelle's eyes when her grandfather brought it up, which made Shirley reach over and pat Michelle on the back gently. After an amen from everyone at the table, the food was served in generous proportions and conversations arose. Almost all of the talk at the table inevitably centered around Michelle.

"So Michelle," her aunt Adrian spoke up. "What have you been up to these past few years? Have you been in the Air Force this whole time?"

"Not at all," Michelle said after finishing chewing a piece of sausage and looking over at her aunt. "I left after Desert Storm was over. I didn't feel like sticking around."

"So what were you doing for so long, my baby girl?" Sal asked his granddaughter.

Michelle looked over at Shirley nervously. The elder witch could tell that for Michelle to admit exactly what she had been doing with herself would be tantamount to a major sin, but Shirley nodded at her with her mouth full of lasagna to assure Michelle it was okay to lie.

"I kind of bounced around a bit," Michelle said, only giving a half truth that she felt was a good enough cover for her story. "I worked a few odd jobs here and there to pay the bills, but I mostly just hiked around and explored the country."

"Like where in the country?" her uncle Jake asked curiously.

Michelle took another bite of lasagna and sipped on some water before turning to her uncle. "Well when I got home I arrived at Nellis Air Force Base, so I decided to go around the west. So I saw everything from the arches of Utah, the Yellowstone River, the wilds of Montana, and even the forests of Idaho and Washington. I just wanted to take some time to see some places, you know?"

"I hope you took a lot of pictures," Christopher said with a smirk.

"Ha you wish," Michelle said as she buttered a piece of bread. "If only I could've afforded a camera back then."

Michelle's family nodded and continued to look over at her to ask more questions, which Shirley could tell Michelle found to be mildly overwhelming. "Now how about you, Shirley?" Dee asked. "How did you and my little girl Michelle get to know each other?"

Michelle exhaled heavily that she didn't have to answer that question and she knew that Shirley wouldn't tell the whole truth of how they met. She watched as Shirley began to concoct a story in her head, one that the younger witch would find acceptable for this setting.

"Let's just say we bumped into each other in my neck of the woods," Shirley said with a gentle smile. Michelle let out the breath she was holding nervously.

"And where is your neck of the woods?" her aunt Amanda asked.

"San Antonio, Texas," Shirley responded politely.

"So you really get around, don't you Michelle," her aunt Alessandra remarked. Michelle again rolled her eyes and began to munch on her buttered bread. "But you mentioned that Shirley is your boss now. So what's that all about?"

The two witches looked back toward each other. Their expressions were uncertain and projected a level of confusion as to which of them should explain what was going on, but eventually Michelle silently decided she would take the lead on the subject. "Shirley recruited me for a project she's working on after she found out I was a witch."

"Oh really?" Dee said. "Well that's very interesting. What kind of project?"

Shirley looked over at Michelle and expected the younger witch to coil at the question, unable to answer because of the sensitive nature of what she was doing. Instead Shirley watched her eyes begin to glow and her expression rise as she answered with glee what she was doing.

"Shirley wants me to be a racing witch, Nona," Michelle explained with a smile. "She's gonna be my team principal."

Michelle heard a clanging sound on the table and looked over at her uncle Joey, who had dropped his silverware in surprise. "Get the fuck out," he exclaimed.

"Joseph Vincent Calabrese!" Dee shouted at Michelle's uncle. "Watch your mouth at the table, there are children all over here.

"Ma, didn't you hear what she said? She's gonna be a racing witch, like those girls on the TV," he exclaimed happily. He pointed a fork at his cousin. "You little stinker. Why didn't you call and tell us that you were going to be doing this?"

Michelle blushed at her uncle's admiration. She hadn't been showered with this much attention in a long time, and was feeling very comfortable knowing it was from her family. "Hey I kind of just fell into this situation. None of this would've happened if I hadn't met Shirley." Shirley smiled and scratched the back of her head sheepishly. "I was actually over in Morristown running tests on my Magic with Shirley and a friend of hers. If everything checks out I'll be out there racing."

"And you didn't call us to let us know?" Joey remarked from the other side of the table. "You're a real turd, Michelle. I love you, but you're a real turd."

"Heh, love you too, Uncle Joey," Michelle chuckled with a roll of her eyes. Shirley chuckled as well. The relationship that Michelle and Joey had didn't seem all that different from the one she had with her younger brothers, Hal and Roy.

The conversation continued in a number of directions focused on what Michelle had been doing after her time in the Air Force, which Shirley could tell Michelle was willing to answer but only so much. She could see her racing witch getting stressed out, and began to look for a way to get her out of the situation.

Thankfully Michelle's cousin Christopher came through in the clutch to get her away from the questions. "Think you could beat Jenna Dunn?" he asked her. Shirley let out a 'phew' before going to reach for a slice of bread and some butter. She looked over at Michelle, whose shoulders were sagging and her posture becoming more relaxed.

"Jenna who?" Michelle asked quizzically, looking over at her cousin.

"Jenna Dunn," Shirley repeated while buttering a slice of bread for herself. "She's a witch from Britannia who races for the Williams Air Racing Team. She's the reigning Striker World Champion. Actually she's the two time reigning World Champion. And she's a really talented witch."

"There's some people who say she's the best witch to ever race," Christopher pointed out.

"Well I could beat her," Michelle asserted with a confident grin. "She's never run up against a witch like me. Right, Shirley?"

Shirley wanted to tell Michelle to not be so cocky, but then she thought about it for a moment and realized something. "Yeah," Shirley said, thinking about it more. "She's never run up against a witch like you, Michelle. In fact, no one on that grid has ever run up against a witch like you."

* * *

After about another hour and a half of eating, Michelle and Shirley both said their goodbyes. Michelle made sure to tell everyone in her family that she would call and at the very least write the occasional letter to update them on her progress. She also promised that she would see them again soon and would be sure to make more visits. All of them gave her hugs and kisses on the cheek and lips. The tightest embraces were reserved for Sal, Dee, and Joey. Shirley also received her fair share of handshakes, along with a few playful but serious threats to not push Michelle too far or else. Shirley assured them all that Michelle was in good hands, and Michelle did much to talk everyone down from threatening her new boss. Once all the goodbyes had been said the two left Togno Street and walked back to their rental car.

"That was a great time," Shirley said as she sat down and buckled her seatbelt. "I really enjoyed myself today, Michelle."

"You mean that?" the younger witch asked as she buckled her own seatbelt.

"Of course I mean it," Shirley said sincerely and with a big smile. "You have an awesome family, Michelle. I can tell the apple didn't fall from the tree when it comes to you and them."

"Thank you," Michelle said bashfully. "That means a lot." Shirley began to drive the rental car away and she remained silent for a few moments. "Hey, Shirley?"

"Yeah, Michelle?"

"Why didn't you ask where my mom and dad were?" she asked in a low tone while looking over at the older witch.

Shirley's intuition began to flare and she knew something was amiss in this situation. She responded carefully. "I didn't feel like I needed to," she stated. "I was just so glad you were back with your grandparents, aunts, uncles, and all your cousins. It never crossed my mind to ask about your parents."

Michelle nodded and turned her head back to look out at the scenery. "I think I owe you a story," Michelle said solemnly.

"Michelle, you don't owe me anything," Shirley replied back gently.

"This time I do," Michelle stated quietly. "There's a lot I want to tell you, a lot I want to get off my chest." Shirley looked over at the younger witch, who was straightening herself out in her seat. She could see a look on Michelle's face that held a lot of emotions. Slowly, the younger witch began to recount her story.

"My grandparents got married right after the Second Neuroi War," Michelle began. "In 1947 they had my Aunt Adrian. A year later they had my Aunt Alessandra and Aunt Amanda. A year after that my Uncle John was born. Then came my Uncle Jake. And after that…" Michelle paused. "In 1952, they had Annette Celestina Calabrese."

"Your mom?" Shirley asked.

"Yeah, my mom," Michelle said quietly. She paused and took a breath as Shirley continued to drive along. "She was, until Joey became the accident baby back in 1960, the youngest of seven freaking siblings. She was a runt too, born very premature and very tiny. My Pop Pop and Nona didn't know for the longest time if she was going to make it. But she pulled through, somehow."

Michelle paused and shook her head. "I still would like to know how in the world she fought harder to live as a mere infant than any witch I've ever met. It still blows my mind." She paused again. "It really put a chip on her shoulder, though. Being the youngest, shortest, and always being kinda sick for awhile when she was little, my mom developed a real attitude. My aunts would always pick on her because she was so tiny, and my uncles never really wanted to pay much attention to her. So she became the family pain in the ass. My mom would use her smarts to get back at my aunts and would do bad stuff to get the attention of my grandparents. She would act out in school and never sat still in church. She always did things her way and always questioning, always talking back, always asking 'why'. It was the only way she knew how to be."

Michelle again paused before swallowing and getting the courage to speak up. "It only made perfect sense that she would be the one to get swept off her feet first. When she was only sixteen and attending a roller rink youth night she met a dashing Romagnan boy who was two years older and visiting a cousin out in Netcong. His name was James Nicholas Taranto. And from the moment they met the two fell in love."

"That fast, huh?" Shirley replied. "That's pretty wonderful."

"Yeah, it was," the younger witch replied. "My dad lived on Staten Island, so they exchanged numbers and constantly talked over the phone. My mom studied up for her driver's test like a law student studying for the bar and took a bunch of odd jobs here and there so she could buy a rundown Volkswagen Beetle to go out and see him. They went steady for a few years until one night things got a little...passionate."

"And they had you?" Shirley questioned.

"They did. And it was a difficult situation because neither of my dad's parents approved. It's why I have never been close with my dad's side of the family aside from my aunt Mary, and she only reached out after I became a witch to share her experience with me. So my Pop Pop and Nona let my mom and dad move in with them when my mom had me, on the condition they got married before they moved in. Unlike my mom, I was a pretty trouble free pregnancy."

"I'm sure you were," Shirley said with a smile.

"Anyway, after I was born my mom and dad had to find work. My mom got a job as a school secretary and made a few extra bucks watching kids in the neighborhood. My Pop Pop helped my dad get a place with the union and set him up as a carpenter. The first two years we lived with my grandparents. But after all the extra shifts and jobs my parents both worked, we moved into a house about a block away from Togno Street. And things were really good for a little while."

The inside of the car was silent for a moment in the car before Michelle began to continue with her story. There was a deep breath from the younger witch before the rest came out. "But then," Michelle began. She paused and shut her eyes tight, trying the hardest to hold back her emotions. "One day Mom got sick. And at first she just seemed a bit weak, but time went on and she only got worse. By the time I was five she was in and out of the hospital four times a week. Doctors finally figured out she had blood cancer. Her blood was as thick as motor oil and there was nothing they could do about it. She died right after I turned six."

Shirley looked over and saw Michelle had her eyes had turned pink from the emotions coming up within her. "And my dad," she choked, trying not to completely sob. "My dad...he never let it go. He blamed himself for what happened, said he didn't take care of her well enough. And he lost control of himself. He started drinking, bad. He just would come home at night, get hammered, and pass out on the couch. Nothing myself or my Pop Pop and Nona could do would bring him out of the funk he was in. And then…"

Shirley looked over and saw Michelle's face, which was on the verge of erupting into a swell of tears, exacerbating the waterfalls already flowing down her face as the younger witch spoke. In her own heart she felt a rising level of emotions coming to the surface as the story continued.

"I came home from school one day," the younger witch began. "Not long after I gained my magic and became a witch. I came back and found him on the couch slumped over. But everything was limp and his skin was this greyish hue. I rushed over to my grandparents and they called 911, but there was nothing we could do. He was dead for at least a few hours before I got home. And I couldn't save him…"

"Michelle…," Shirley went to say. There was so much more she felt she wanted to do, but she held back until the story was finished.

"After that I bounced around with my aunts and grandparents. I would take care of my younger cousins like a mom while going to school at the same time. My only solace in those years was spending time with Uncle Joey, who introduced me to bands like Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, and Motörhead. He really helped me get through some tough times." She paused one more time, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Joey was kinda my best friend in those years. It was so hard to leave him behind when I went to Air Force. But I had to. I know my Pop Pop, Nona, and my aunts tried so hard, but I needed stability. And I could only get it by going away. And it sucks to think I left them behind for so long…" she trailed off.

At that moment Shirley pulled the Impala off the the side of the road and unbuckled her seat belt. She turned to the younger witch and immediately wrapped her in a tight but gentle embrace. Only then did the last of Michelle's walls fall down and the emotions she was holding back cascade from her eyes and out into long sobs. Shirley ran her hands through Michelle's hair and gently down her back, allowing the younger witch to return the embrace as she gently felt herself clung too. Neither of them cared about the time table they were affecting. All they thought about was holding each other tight.

* * *

Gertrud took a sip of her coffee slowly. The bitter taste of the extra black sent her tastebuds rising like goosebumps. Her throat was minorly scalded by the heat of the hot beverage. Still she enjoyed the taste, not caring that the drink was probably too hot for her to ingest and that it had a tendency to make her want to use the bathroom more than normal. It was all to be expected as she knew too well. She had been drinking coffee on a regular basis since she was twelve years old, when she first joined Karlsland's military and became an air infantry witch. It was in some ways the only thing that kept her awake, especially when Shirley was gone and she had trouble sleeping soundly.

The lack of proper sleep was something that was getting to her over the past four days. She was able to lay down and rest, but she would constantly be tossing and turning, even having nightmares of witches lost and cities of her homeland burning while Shirley was gone. She even dreamed back to one of the times she remembered Shirley getting shot down by a neuroi, and that she wasn't able to save her. It made Gertrud sweat and tremble, and made her almost fear going asleep. So instead of sleeping she resolved to work in her study, drinking coffee and working on writing projects until Shirley and Michelle returned to San Antonio.

She stared long at the computer screen, yawning as she coffee kept her awake but not enough to really do any writing. She carefully studied the progress she had made upon her work, a technical piece on the evolution of jet strikers from the ME-262 she flew all the way to the F-15C that Michelle flew and beyond. Her eyes bounced between the screen where her writing showed and some technical documents on her desk, which showed schematics of jet engines that she honestly couldn't completely decipher but was able to rehash the data in a decipherable manner. None of this seemed all that interesting. She mostly just wanted Shirley to come home, and wondered when her wife would. Thankfully she didn't have to wait long.

"Trude?" a familiar voice called out from behind her study door. The black haired witch sprung up and looked over at the door. "Are you in there? I didn't find you in bed and I wondered if you're working late."

Gertrud at first was at a loss for words, happy enough that her wife was home. Without giving it a second thought she bolted over to the door of her study and opened it wide. Sure enough there was her wife, standing in one of her white blouses with a deep red vest and jeans with riding boots gracing her own legs. Michelle stood next to her wearing a black Metallica t-shirt with jeans, her typical ragtag appearance Gertrud had come to expect from the younger witch over the time they had known each other.

Without giving it a second thought she sprang into Shirley's arms and kissed her, which Shirley returned passionately. Michelle rolled her eyes but smiled at the sight. Even if the displays of passion Shirley and Gertrud displayed were a bit much for her, she still appreciated the fact that even in their advanced age they were still so deeply in love.

"I missed you so much, Hase," Gertrud said while holding her wife and looking at her longingly.

"Jeez, Trude," Shirley chuckled. "It's only been four days."

"Four days too many," Gertrud said with a smile. She went to kiss her wife again but was interrupted by a tug on her shirt, making her turn around to look at the younger witch.

"Ahem," Michelle said, clearing her throat. "What about me, Old Bat? You didn't miss riding my ass?"

Gertrud rolled her eyes. "I suppose so, you brat," the older witch sniffed. She reached down and pulled the younger witch into a one armed embrace. She was surprised and blushed when Michelle reached over into a full hug. It caught her completely off guard. Was this even the same Michelle?

She looked over at both witches. "So how was the testing? Did it go well?"

"Well…" Shirley said, looking away with a sad look upon her face. Gertrud felt her heart sink and looked over at Michelle, fearing the worst. She watched though as a smile began to cross Shirley's face and Michelle's eyes glowed. "Michelle checked out!"

"What?" Gertrud muttered, shocked by what Shirley was saying.

"I'm good to go physically and my magic is strong, Old Bat," Michelle snickered. "No thanks to you."

"So this means…" the black haired witch began. Her heart began to do somersaults, unsure of what to feel by Shirley's news.

"We're off to the races, Trude!" Shirley shouted excitedly, bouncing up and down on the spot like a child in front of her wife. She then reached down and wrapped the two other witches in a hug, shoving their faces both into her bosom and making them both blush. Michelle and Gertrud looked over at each other and smiled. Even Gertrud by this point was looking forward to where they would go.


End file.
